The Only Easy Day is Yesterday
by oldscout1011
Summary: What would happen if an immortal didn't believe in the game and refused to play by its rules? Original characters. Familiar characters start showing up about half way through. (Pg-13 for Violence and language.) (Complete)
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Highlander universe, just setting the story there. This story was written around 1996 and focuses on original characters but familiar characters start showing up about halfway through. It is complete and I will posting over the next several days. All reviews and comments are welcome and appreciated

****

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout

Part 1  
  
The young man walked through the dark, deserted parking lot.   
  
Around him, scattered cars sat abandoned by their last drivers. The  
  
mall had been closed for hours. All windows were dark, and there was  
  
no other movement. An empty cup rolled across the yellow lines,  
  
crossing paths with a wayward page from the evening's sports section.   
  
He wore a camouflage military field jacket with the collar pulled  
  
up and secured under his chin. A black printed strip over the right  
  
pocket read "KELLER" and one over the left read "US NAVY". His  
  
short, outgrown GI haircut was matted down by the mist of rain that fell  
  
about him. Black canvas jungle boots made no noise on the wet  
  
blacktop, and his green military duffel was slung securely over his right  
  
shoulder, riding comfortably on his back.  
  
On the far side of the lot, a pair of lights appeared and headed  
  
for the young man. He looked at the approaching lights then at the  
  
woods and the unseen highway beyond. The moment of hesitation cost  
  
him his choice. The car approached faster then he had originally  
  
anticipated. It could be a cop, or a random driver coming to check out  
  
this lone figure. The man put down his duffel. He knew it was neither.   
  
Someone had been stalking him since this morning.  
  
The car stopped thirty yards away. In the dim light, he could  
  
tell it was a new Camero. The black roof suggested a Z28, not bad.   
  
The driver got out, he was a tall man wearing a trench coat. A  
  
sickening knot that started in the pit of Keller's stomach then shook his  
  
whole body told him what this man was. He walked from the edge of  
  
the glow of one street light to another.   
  
Keller waited patiently to see the man's face. Finally, the driver  
  
was close enough to make out. He looked to be barely a man, perhaps  
  
seventeen, maybe.  
  
"I am Grigori Neboatov," the boy said as he pulled an old  
  
curved sword from under his coat. "But my friends know me as Greg  
  
Newbury," he added with a smile.  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you, Greg, but I don't play the game,"  
  
Keller informed the other. Then reached down to pick up his bag.  
  
Newbury swung his sword from one position to another and  
  
took a step toward Keller. "You don't have a choice." He then smiled  
  
again. "When I saw you this afternoon, I really didn't think it would be  
  
this easy."  
  
"You mean you would kill me just like that, in cold blood?"  
  
"The blood definitely isn't cold, and it's all just part of the Game.   
  
It is the price you pay for a few extra days, years or even centuries of  
  
life."  
  
"It's murder!"  
  
"Your already dead. I'm just finishing the job." With that,  
  
Newbury stepped forward, raising his sword to strike.  
  
"I don't think so," Keller said and pulled a stainless steel .357  
  
magnum out from under his coat.  
  
Newbury grinned briefly, thinking his adversary was finally  
  
pulling his own sword. The bright flash and explosion quickly changed  
  
his expression. Pain ripped through his left side as his kidney  
  
disintegrated and blew out his back, taking with it splinters of rib and  
  
parts of near by organs. Before he had time to scream, his shoulder  
  
exploded, shattering the top of his arm, leaving only muscle and tissue  
  
to hold it to his body.  
  
Grigori Neboatov landed on his shattered side screaming in  
  
pain. The boy/man grabbed feebly at his wounds. Only his centuries of  
  
life kept him from succumbing to the pain and passing out. "You son  
  
of a bitch," he hissed. "this breaks all the rules."  
  
"What rules? I never signed up for any game. I'm just  
  
protecting myself the only way I know how."  
  
"Next time, you bastard, I won't give you a chance."  
  
"You would still come after me knowing that I don't play?"  
  
"As long as your head is on your shoulders, your playing. You'd  
  
better get yourself a sword, 'cause next time you won't surprise me."  
  
"I'm sorry you feel that way."  
  
Grigori watched through blurred eyes as Keller reached into his  
  
duffel and pulled out a weapon the length of his arm. The sound of a  
  
shell being pumped into a shotgun was the second to last sound Grigori  
  
Neboatov heard.  
  
The Z28 was a fine car. Grigori must have parked it at a  
  
distance to avoid the quickening. How considerate. One thing Keller  
  
had learned the last few years was that these immortals, especially the  
  
older ones, had very few ties, so wouldn't soon be missed and were very  
  
hard to trace when found sans head.  
  
Jeremy Keller sat parked on the back street overlooking the  
  
Virginia Beach shoreline. A large ship glided across the horizon and  
  
pulled Keller into his dreams.  
  
......It had been a standard mission, and an easy one. Swim in  
  
close to the shore, photograph the Iraqi fortifications at sector 12b, then  
  
swim back to the sub. Along the way, they would flag any mine lines  
  
found. It was a mission they had trained for a hundred times over and  
  
had accomplished without incident twelve times.  
  
The Iraqis had no clue the SEALS had been there and gone.   
  
None of the young Iraqi boy-soldiers who sat nervously awaiting the  
  
pending invasion knew how close the Americans were. They sat  
  
huddled in their bunkers watching the faint horizon for the invading  
  
fleet, never suspecting the enemy floated a few yards off shore, looking  
  
up at them.   
  
The mission had gone flawlessly, in and out quickly. They had  
  
found their sleds and started the long swim back without incident. In  
  
the Persian Gulf, however, the weather could change quickly. The  
  
surface had turned from slow rolling waves to a violent chop. Weather  
  
was just the beginning of trouble for Lieutenant Keller. The currents  
  
from the waves separated him from his team. Then his re-breather  
  
began having troubles. Mico-chips in the complex, mixed gas  
  
rebreather failed quickly, poisoning his oxygen. Swimming in near  
  
blackness in the middle of the Persian Gulf, Lieutenant Jeremy Keller  
  
died, killed by the most sinister enemy of a high tech soldier, a defective  
  
computer chip.....  
  
Jeremy woke up gasping for air and clutching at the steering  
  
wheel. Night had fallen, and lights spotted the ocean and shore in front  
  
of him. Hunger gnawed at his gut, and the pain of cramped muscles  
  
pulled at his neck and shoulders. The Z28 fired right up and carried  
  
him back toward the frenzied panic of civilization. It was time to stop  
  
remembering what had been and begin looking forward to a very long  
  
life, if he could avoid the crazies playing with their swords.   
  
The car pointed itself west and carried Lieutenant Keller into the  
  
night.  
  
to be continued.............. 


	2. Part 2

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

****

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

**** By OldScout  
  
Part 2  
  
The circle of police cars in the mall parking lot grew quickly.  
  
Agent Ropper was the newest arrival. Her car was a plain brown sedan,  
  
and she glided slowly into the circle. Around her, local officials  
  
continued to race up to the scene with sirens blaring and tires sliding on  
  
the damp black top.  
  
Agent Anita Ropper approached the circle of yellow tape and  
  
flashed her badge and ID to an officer. He looked at the credentials then  
  
called his captain over.  
  
"Anita," Captain Jonathan Weller said as soon as he saw her. "To  
  
what do we owe the honor of your company?"  
  
Agent Ropper ducked under the tape, then looked up at the  
  
captain. "Probably the same thing that pulled you out of bed this  
  
miserable morning."  
  
"And what might that be?"  
  
Ropper pointed her gloved hand at the sword laying in the goo of  
  
blood that surrounded the covered body. "Perhaps we both see a  
  
connection to other similar situations."   
  
"Perhaps," Weller answered "but we're both out of luck. Tthis one  
  
wasn't beheaded, like the rest."  
  
"Really?" She pushed through the circle of people around the body  
  
"what was the cause of death?" She then motioned for someone to move  
  
the cover.  
  
The man tending the body hesitated, but the captain nodded his  
  
compliance. The canvas was lifted briefly, giving Anita a complete view  
  
of the body. She swallowed hard but did not turn away.  
  
"Cause of death is very similar." Anita said after turning back to  
  
the captain. "It still may be worth investigating. It's not like swords are  
  
all that common in twentieth century America. Do you have an I.D. on  
  
him yet?"  
  
"Not yet, but we do have this." Weller motioned to an officer who  
  
produced a small plastic evidence bag. In it on a gold chain was a small  
  
high school class ring that read "NorthVille High" on one side and "'97"  
  
on the other. On the inside was the name "Julie Coyle."  
  
"Have you found her yet?"  
  
"Our men should be at the school now." Weller then checked his  
  
watch "Classes don't begin for half an hour. I assume your on way over  
  
there now?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I'll give my lead detective a call and tell him your coming."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
As Agent Ropper turned to leave, Captain Weller spoke up  
  
"Anita."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"About that incident last year...."  
  
"Don't worry about it Jack. I knew you were only doing the  
  
political side of your job." Anita retreated quickly before he could rehash  
  
the disagreement anymore.  
  
Julie Coyle was a stereotypical teenager, long curly blond hair, too  
  
much make up and a short skirt. She said that the boy's name was Greg  
  
Newbury, and they were planning to get married as soon as he finished  
  
college in five years. The girl was extremely upset to hear about Greg's  
  
death but somehow didn't seem surprised.   
  
It also turned out that Greg was an emancipated teenager. His  
  
parents had been killed in an auto accident not long before Julie met him,  
  
and now he lived on his own. Julie was too distraught to tell the  
  
investigators where Greg lived. It turned out she didn't know the address,  
  
just how to get there. The school, of course had, the address and team  
  
was soon its way.  
  
The house was small, in a middle class neighbor hood. As  
  
expected, no one answered their knocks so they let themselves in. The  
  
house was clean and sparsely furnished. A few cheap paintings hung on  
  
the walls, and no knick knacks occupied and table space.  
  
The bedroom was very richly and tastefully furnished. "Well, I  
  
guess this is where he spent most of his time." Agent Ropper said to  
  
herself.  
  
"Are you surprised, Agent Ropper?" Detective Ficsher said from  
  
behind her. Detective Ficsher was a heavy man in his late forties or early  
  
fifties. He had short graying hair except for the bit he kept long to comb  
  
over his widening bald spot. An unlit cigarette constantly dangled from  
  
the man's lips, but Anita had never seen him light it.  
  
"Not at all, Detective. In fact, I would have been surprised if we  
  
had found a standard teenager's room with a single twin bed." She  
  
stepped in to the room, looking around but not touching anything.  
  
"Hello, what's this?" She carefully picked up an envelope from  
  
the motor vehicle department. It was the receipt for the registration of a  
  
1994 Cammero Z28. Was there a Camero at the crime scene? She asked  
  
knowing the answer but wanting to double check.   
  
"No ma'am." Ficsher replied.  
  
Agent Ropper handed the detective the envelope. He immediately  
  
gave it to a uniform and issued some orders.  
  
"There just isn't enough stuff," Anita said as she continued her  
  
slow pace through the house. "Nothing in storage, no boxes no filled  
  
closets, the basement is nearly empty."  
  
"What are you getting at?" Detective Ficsher asked as he made his  
  
own observations in her wake.  
  
"Where is the rest of his stuff? Where are the memories, the  
  
pictures of parents and friends? Where are the school books and old  
  
papers? This looks like a very sterilized movie set. There's no life here."  
  
Ficsher looked around again "Your right; it does look like a  
  
front."  
  
"That's it, a front. Like he was playing the part of a high school  
  
student. I think it's time we initiated a very thorough search of Mr.  
  
Newbury's background. I'd also like to find out where else he used to  
  
spend his time." As she spoke, Agent Ropper pulled a cellular phone out  
  
of a coat pocket and dialed up her own people.  
  
to be continued.......


	3. Part 3

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 3  
  
Jeremy couldn't say how long it had been since he left Virginia,  
  
but things had been going smoothly. The car ran well, and between the  
  
cash he had and what Grigori was carrying, he figured he could keep  
  
going for a few more days. He stayed on secondary roads when possible.   
  
It was only a matter of time before they started looking for the car.   
  
Perhaps it was time to start switching plates. So few people looked at  
  
their license plates; it would buy him a few days.  
  
Flashing lights and a siren brought him out of his thoughts. It  
  
was too late. Someone had spotted him. Perhaps it was just a speed trap.  
  
Jeremy pulled to the side of the road. It was a two-way black top  
  
someplace in the south with no other traffic in sight. The cruiser was  
  
unmarked with lights in the grill. He sat and waited as they made the  
  
license check. Perhaps luck would be with him and the authorities hadn't  
  
traced Grigori to this car. If they hadn't, it would probably turn out that  
  
Grigori had stolen it.  
  
The doors to the police car opened, and the officers stayed behind  
  
them with weapons drawn. "You in the car!" One of them said through  
  
the p.a. "get out with your hands raised, and lay face down on the  
  
ground." Up ahead, lights from approaching cruisers were cresting a hill.  
  
In response, Keller fired up the Z28 and sped away, the rear tires  
  
spraying the police with stones. Just as he started out, he thought he  
  
heard one of the cops yell "All right! We've got us a runner!"  
  
Grigori's Z28 flew down the old road barely touching the ground  
  
as it crested some of the hills. Keller passed the approaching police  
  
before they even knew he was running. Soon there were three cars in hot  
  
pursuit. If the road were straight and flat it would be no contest, but it  
  
was a rolling black top that Keller had never seen before.   
  
The odds were against him, and they would soon have road  
  
blocks set up. Ahead, the surrounding foliage opened up revealing a  
  
bridge. Two police cars were half way across when they saw him coming  
  
and quickly parked next to each other very effectively blocking the way.   
  
Keller smiled. This was going to get good. Then, he shifted gears and  
  
floored the gas pedal.  
  
The cops heard the rev of the engine as he started gaining speed,  
  
and ran they for cover. Keller aimed at the road block, then at the last  
  
minute jerked the wheel hard to the left. The camaro sheared through the  
  
supports of the bridge and was airborne. Now the engine really revved  
  
for the few seconds the car was in the air. Upon impact, the front end  
  
buckled deploying the air bags. From the outside, the car looked like an  
  
Olympic diver slicing gracefully into the water.  
  
When the car hit the water, Keller's neck snapped. His back broke in two  
  
places, and both of his legs suffered multiple fractures as the engine   
  
crushed back into the car's fire wall.  
  
The river was wide, quick and deep. The car was soon carried  
  
well down stream where it tangled with some trees caught on the bottom.   
  
The Camaro's interior was well designed and semi water tight even with  
  
the damage it had suffered..........   
  
---   
  
Sand, water and seaweed washed over Keller's body as he baked  
  
in the sun. Sharp pain rushed through his body, shocking him out of the  
  
darkness. Jeremy instinctively dragged himself out of the surf and into  
  
the near by brush. The hot Arabian sun burned down from the mid  
  
morning sky quickly drying him and caking sea salt into his pores.  
  
Keller took stock of his equipment. His pistol handled pump  
  
shotgun was still strapped to his back. The .357 magnum was holstered  
  
to his right ankle and his diver's knife was strapped to the other. The re-  
  
breather was long gone. He remember discarding it as it failed on him.   
  
All in all, his situation was rather bleak. All of his survival equipment  
  
was gone, he was somewhere in the desert wearing only a wet suit and  
  
rubber swim shoes. If the enemy didn't find him, the sun would surely  
  
kill him in a matter of days.  
  
How he survived this far, he had know idea. By all rights he  
  
should be dead. Normally a re-breather failure is the end of it.  
  
Now what was the plan? By his best guess he was on the eastern  
  
shore. That meant he could be in Saudi Arabia. But he wasn't sure. Best  
  
thing to do would be to dig in and wait for someone, anyone, to come by.   
  
If it were friendlies, that would be great. If it were Iraqis, well, they  
  
probably would have some kind of supplies he could use.  
  
Lieutenant Keller wandered in land a few hundred feet. He had  
  
to be careful, if this was Kuwait, then the place could be heavily mined.   
  
Near shore, there was a wide single lane unpainted road.   
  
"Do I follow it south, or stay put?" he thought to himself. He  
  
breathed in deeply; he felt invigorated. Perhaps the walk would do him  
  
good. Keller removed his ripped wet suit and tied it in a bundle. He was  
  
left wearing only swim trunks and the rubber swim shoes. Looking up at  
  
the sun, he decided it would be best to wait till evening.  
  
There were some scraggly palm trees near the water so he used  
  
his knife to cut palms and build a shelter. The shelter looked like pile of  
  
debris, exactly how it was designed. It only needed to provide one  
  
function, protect him from the sun, which it did effectively enough.  
  
As the sun set, Keller started off down the road. He wore his wet  
  
suit top for some protection from the environment but buried the shredded  
  
pants, leaving only his swim trunks and rubber swim shoes to complete  
  
the outfit. Night came quickly, revealing a full sky of stars and soon any  
  
heat absorbed by the desert was released into the night. The temperature  
  
fell quickly, putting a definite chill in the air.  
  
Keller was about to pick up his pace when two pair of head lights  
  
appeared on the road ahead. He instinctively dove to the shadows of the  
  
burm. He grasped his shot gun with both hands and waited for the cars  
  
to pass. If they were Americans, they may mistakenly shoot him. It was  
  
also still a possibility that he was in the wrong country.  
  
As they approached, they slowed down. The cars were big new  
  
American fat rides. One was a Chevy Caprice and the other a Lincoln  
  
Town Car. Both cars were white with blacked out windows. Suddenly a  
  
convulsion ripped through his body. It was similar to what he felt when  
  
he first woke up but much stronger.  
  
The first men out of the cars wore tan uniforms, or were they work  
  
clothes? It was hard to tell in the dark. They all carried sub machine  
  
guns but kept them pointed at the ground. Two came from the first car,  
  
and the third was the driver of the second. Finally a second man came  
  
out of the second car. He wore the full traditional Saudi clothes,  
  
including white robes and red-checked headdress folded casually across  
  
the top of his head. He was a short man, no more then five and a half  
  
feet, and looked to be in his early twenties.  
  
The Saudi called out something in Arabic. They must have seen  
  
him even from that great distance. If these were Saudis, then they should  
  
be on his side, but everyone knew there were fundamentalists that greatly  
  
opposed the US presence in the country.  
  
Again, the Saudi said something in Arabic. It sounded like the  
  
same thing he said before. Then he switched to English and spoke with a  
  
very clear European accent. "My dear brother, you having nothing to fear  
  
from me. Please come out so I can help you." He then turned to the  
  
other men and had them put their weapons in the cars. "You see. Your  
  
safe."  
  
Keller knew he couldn't hide forever. Yhey had him. He stood up  
  
slowly, keeping his shot gun trained on the leader. One of the guards  
  
looked toward his weapon when Keller stood up, but was called back by  
  
the Saudi.   
  
"Who are you?" Keller commanded   
  
"Ah, an American. Very good."  
  
"How did you know I was here?"   
  
"Feel that knot in your stomach and the nausea that came with it  
  
when I approached?"  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"I feel it too, but I also felt it this morning when you woke up."  
  
"I don't know what your talking about." Keller inched closer to the  
  
group.  
  
"Of course you don't. This is all new to you. Let me fix you up,  
  
and I'll tell you. Then I'll take you back to your people. You must still  
  
have a lot of work to do."  
  
"How do I know I can trust you?"  
  
"Do you have a choice? What does your gut tell you?"  
  
"Do you have any water?"  
  
"Of course." He then said something to one of the other men who  
  
reached into the car. Keller immediately took aim at that man.  
  
He emerged with a small plastic bottle of water and placed it  
  
about ten feet away from Keller. The bottle's seal was unbroken, and it  
  
was cold but not wet. The car must have a mini refrigerator. The water  
  
disappeared in a single swallow.  
  
"Please, my friend, I am Abual Aziz, and I'm here to help." He  
  
then motioned to the men from the first car. They got in, closed the doors  
  
and started the engine. Abual Aziz's driver opened the rear door opposite  
  
the one Aziz had used.  
  
Keller gave up, put the shot gun on safety and got into the car.   
  
Aziz got into car next to Keller and shook his hand. The Saudi's grip was  
  
very light just barely a touch.  
  
"I'm Lieutenant Jeremy Keller of the United States Navy"  
  
"Sit back and rest, Lieutenant Keller. We'll talk when your  
  
strength is back."  
  
Jeremy sat back into the large comfortable seat holding the  
  
shotgun across his lap pointed at the Saudi. He closed his eyes and  
  
passed out.  
  
To be continued........


	4. part 4

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

****

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 4  
  
It was an old house in one of the more affluent parts of town. The  
  
local police were able to gain access once agent Ropper found the place.  
  
It was difficult to find. They had to track every receipt in Newbury's  
  
house. One receipt finally led them to the security company who led  
  
them here.  
  
The house was an old seaman's home with large rooms and  
  
porches wrapping around both floors. On the roof was a classic widow's  
  
walk. The lawn looked like it had not been mowed in weeks, and the  
  
rest of the gardens were totally unkempt. Inside, the house was  
  
completely closed up. The furniture was covered and most of the utilities  
  
were turned off.  
  
"What are we looking for?" one of the detectives said as the crew  
  
slowly fanned out in the house.  
  
"Anything that will give us a clue as to who Greg Newbury was  
  
and who may have wanted him dead," Anita said as she walked slowly  
  
into the parlor.  
  
There was nothing unique or personal in the house until the team  
  
searched the basement. Half of the basement had been bricked up, and a  
  
large locked iron door was the only way in.  
  
"Well ma'am, what do we do now?" Detective Fischer asked.  
  
"That's easy." She then produced a large envelope from her purse.   
  
In it were a number of items from Newbury's house, some of which were  
  
keys.   
  
The door opened on the third try, revealing a vault of personal  
  
items. One wall had a large collection of high school year books dating  
  
back to the twenties. There were stacks of old photo albums in another  
  
area. The center of the room held racks of paintings, each painting  
  
carefully wrapped and catalogued. To one side, was a collection that  
  
looked like it was recently accessed. Dozens of swords stood in a  
  
wooden rack, only their hilts showing for easy access.   
  
The rack of swords was not only dusted but cleaned and well  
  
maintained. It did not look like it was in a forgotten storage vault, but in  
  
a well kept museum. There was one empty slot at the top of the rack and  
  
several empty slots together on the bottom.  
  
One of the detectives reached for a sword, but agent Ropper  
  
stopped him. "Please don't touch anything. I want these swords dusted."  
  
"Dusted, what do you expect, to prove Newbury was here? We  
  
can already do that." Detective Ficsher said.  
  
"No detective, I want to see if we can tie these swords to anybody  
  
else." She then looked at the rest of the room. "Well, it looks like this  
  
room should be able to tell us everything we ever wanted to know about  
  
the Newbury family."  
  
Just then Agent Ropper's cellular phone rang but cut out as soon  
  
as she answered it. "They'll call back. Detective, get a print team down  
  
here. Let's see what they can come up with." The phone rang again as  
  
she climbed the stairs out of the basement. This time the connect  
  
maintaned.  
  
"Agent Ropper?" said a familiar voice.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"They've found Newbury's car. Your tickets will be waiting for  
  
you at the airport, and a fax is transmitting now. Good Luck Agent  
  
Ropper."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
---  
  
Three airports and a long road trip with an agent from the regional  
  
office later, Anita Ropper arrived at the scene. It was in the middle of  
  
nowhere, a lonely two-lane road and a tall bridge over a wide river.   
  
Rescue and emergency equipment lined the road on either side of the  
  
bridge. Food service and other amenities were also set up near the bridge  
  
for the workers.  
  
After parking at the end of the line, Anita and her new partner  
  
approached what looked like the command center. Sheriff's deputies and  
  
state police officers gathered around a van talking to a man in a diving  
  
outfit. One of the older men saw the two approach and came out to meet  
  
them. He went directly to the tall clean cut young agent, a well tanned  
  
healthy young man.   
  
"Agent Ropper I assume," he said holding out his hand. "I'm  
  
Sheriff Bigalow. I'm in charge of this operation. Your people alerted me  
  
that you'd be coming."  
  
"To bad they didn't describe me," Anita said. "It would have saved  
  
you from looking like a fool."  
  
The Sheriff looked at the short African American woman standing  
  
next to him. He swallowed hard once, then forced I smile "Sorry about  
  
that ma'am, my mistake."  
  
Anita shook the Sheriff's hand and said, "No problem Sheriff, I'm  
  
used to it." she then indicated her partner. "This is Special Agent  
  
Bateman our office liaison for your district."  
  
The two exchanged greetings, then Ropper spoke up again.   
  
"Well, what do you have? The report said that you had the guy we were  
  
looking for."  
  
Bigalow looked a little defensive. "Not exactly, what we have is  
  
the car. We just assumed that the body would be in the car."  
  
"What exactly do you mean, Sheriff"  
  
"Let me show you." The Sheriff then escorted them to the bridge.   
  
He pointed out the hole in the bridge fencing and the large crane mounted  
  
on a barge two hundred yards down stream. "That boy was really flying  
  
when he went through the bridge. My deputies swear they thought he  
  
was actually going to make it across." The Sheriff lifted his hat and ran  
  
his fingers through his thinning, gray hair.  
  
"Damnedest story I've ever heard. They said he was shifting gears  
  
right up to the end. What a way to commit suicide."  
  
"You mean he is dead."  
  
"Of course he is. Nobody could have survived that crash,  
  
especially at those speeds. His body must of washed out when the door  
  
popped open."  
  
"So you don't have a body?"  
  
"Not yet, its just a matter of time. We're already dragging the  
  
river below the car. We'll pull him out soon, I'm sure of it."  
  
"How long before they bring the car up?" Agent Bateman asked.  
  
"We've got a cable on it now. It should be coming up any  
  
minute."   
  
Before long, the red bumper of the Z28 broke the surface of the  
  
muddy water. The whole car was soon hanging from the crane. The front  
  
end was folded and bent up; the roof was dented and the front tires were  
  
blown. The driver's side door was open, and the car's trunk was popped.  
  
Ropper turned to the Sheriff, "Tell everyone to stay away from that  
  
car until I get down there and look at it."  
  
"You want to go down there now?" Bigalow asked in disbelief.   
  
"They'll be bringing it over here right away."  
  
"Sheriff, the more we move the car, what little evidence that is left  
  
could be lost. Now that car and the barge stay right where they are until I  
  
can inspect it; is that clear." Ropper spoke in very hushed, clipped tones  
  
so that nobody but Sheriff Bigalow and Agent Bateman could hear her.  
  
"Very clear," The Sheriff said and quickly turned toward the bank  
  
and flagged down one of his men in a small fishing boat.  
  
Water continued to spill from the car as the three approached it on  
  
the barge. Anita looked under the car and into the open door. She then  
  
signaled the operator to lower the car to the deck.   
  
"Sheriff, did your divers search this car or in anyway alter its  
  
condition?"  
  
"Absolutely not. We may look like hicks, but my people are  
  
absolute professionals."  
  
"Then you may as well call off your dragging operations."  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
Ropper pointed to the trunk and the keys hanging out of the lock.   
  
"I don't think a dead man would have cared what was in the trunk."  
  
"That's impossible. No one could have survived that drop."  
  
Ropper then pointed to the interior. The seat belt had been cut by  
  
a very sharp instrument. "And look at the damage to the door," she said  
  
pointing to the inside panel of the driver's side door. The plastic interior  
  
panel had very distinctive foot shaped dents in it. "The way this thing  
  
landed would have wedged the doors shut. He had to force his way out."  
  
"You mean after kicking his way out of the car, the man took the  
  
keys, opened the trunk, retrieved something and swam away?" the  
  
Sheriff asked in disbelief.  
  
"It certainly appears that way; doesn't it?"  
  
After returning to shore, Agents Ropper and Bateman met with  
  
the rest of the officers. "Well, what did this man look like?"  
  
The men all looked at each other rather sheepishly. "Ah, ma'am,  
  
we never saw him."  
  
"He was in the car the whole time, and nobody approached him  
  
since your bulletin said armed and extremely dangerous."  
  
Ropper tossed her pen up in disgust.   
  
"Agent," one of the men volunteered, "I was on the bridge when  
  
he went over. I think he was white."  
  
"Well, that really narrows it down."  
  
To be continued.................


	5. Part 5

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

****

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY**  
  
**"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
By OldScout

Part 5  
  
Jeremy climbed from the river several miles down stream from the  
  
bridge. By morning, the river would be filled with deputies looking for  
  
his body. Even so, the first order of business was to dry out. His clothes  
  
would dry quickly enough to be presentable, but the contents of the  
  
duffel, including a sleeping bag, would take some time. Night had  
  
recently fallen he would have to improvise. After unpacking the duffel  
  
and wringing as much water as possible from the contents he re-packed  
  
started walking.  
  
In the woods, he found a dirt road that led him to an old hunting  
  
cabin. It didn't take long to force the door and get a look around. The  
  
two room cabin was dusty and obviously hadn't been used in a few  
  
months. A fire was burning in no time and the few possessions from the  
  
duffel were hung to dry.  
  
Keller's next chore was to clean his weapons. The .357 was easy,  
  
a revolver with few parts and stainless steel, it was designed to be low  
  
maintenance and dependable for amphibious commandos. The  
  
Remington 870 pump shotgun was also simple but needed more attention  
  
to keep it in top working order.   
  
As he tore down the Remington, his mind drifted back to his few  
  
days in Saudi Arabia.....  
  
Passing out in a strangers car in an unsecured area was not the  
  
best tactical maneuver he had ever made, but this time luck was with  
  
him. Jeremy woke up to the hum of a distant air conditioner. The room  
  
was plush with fine wood trim and expensive antique furniture. His first  
  
thought was for his weapons, which he found cleaned and set on a table.   
  
Also on the table where the remains of his clothing cleaned and neatly  
  
folded. He had been dressed in standard Arab garb, including loose  
  
white pants and long sleeve shirt all made of fine cotton.  
  
Lieutenant Keller had just picked up his shot gun to examine its  
  
condition when he felt a sickening rush curse through his body. It was all  
  
he could do to stand up straight gripping the table waiting for the  
  
sensation to pass. As before, the sensation was soon followed by the  
  
arrival of his host.  
  
The man entered the room smiling and said "Welcome to my  
  
home, my friend. Some of my servants thought we had lost you, but they  
  
have little faith in the ways of Allah."  
  
Keller knew that the weapons weren't loaded so he put the gun  
  
back on the table and faced his host. "Thank you for taking care of me, I  
  
appreciate it, but I do need to get back to my unit."  
  
"Yes of course, Lieutenant, but first can't you allow yourself to  
  
enjoy my hospitality for just a few hours. I see so few of our kind  
  
especially someone newly awakened like yourself."  
  
"Our kind? Awakened? What are talking about?"  
  
"Of course, you wouldn't know, come let me tell you about that  
  
strange feeling you experienced when I approached." Aziz held the  
  
ornate wooden door open, waiting for Keller to pass.  
  
Jeremy slipped his feet into a pair a sandals that had been left on  
  
the floor at the foot of his bed. "Where are we?"  
  
"We are at my villa near Al Jubayl. This compound has been my  
  
home for many years and is very old."  
  
The room opened under a narrow covered patio that was part of a  
  
large court yard. In the middle of the yard was a small fountain splashing  
  
over orange stone. The whole structure was built of cement and marble  
  
with rough wood timbers as accents. Several servants wearing blue long  
  
sleeve overalls worked in the garden and court yard. The heat of the  
  
Saudi sun struck Keller like a wall but he pushed his way through.  
  
The Saudi led him through the court yard and into another part of  
  
the compound. They went down a long hall then through a locked gate  
  
and down into the basement area. Several vault doors later they stood in  
  
an ancient storage room. The stones of the walls were roughly cut and  
  
the floor looked like it had endured centuries of traffic.  
  
Filling the room where racks of shelves made from wood that  
  
looked like it would crumble at a touch. The shelves were filled with  
  
scrolls and ancient artifacts, including swords and other weapons. The  
  
contents appeared to date from biblical times thru to the early twentieth  
  
century.  
  
"What is this place." Keller asked as he gazed at the collection.  
  
"This is my history, from the days before the rise of the Roman  
  
empire through the founding of the Kingdom earlier this century."  
  
"You can trace your family tree back that far?" Keller asked  
  
fascinated by the ancient Roman artifacts.  
  
"No my brother, this is MY history." Abual opened a book  
  
exposing an old photograph. The photo was yellowed from time and heat  
  
but clearly showed Aziz with a familiar looking white man in Arab robes.  
  
"This is you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And the other man, he looks familiar, but I can't place him."  
  
"That man, is who your people called Lawrence Of Arabia. He  
  
was a very good friend of mine and my tribe."  
  
"T.E. Lawrence, that's not possible."  
  
"It is possible, and quite true, deep down, you know it is." Aziz  
  
waved his hand at the artifacts in the room. "Everything here I acquired  
  
when it was new. The scrolls I penned so long ago, the languages I have   
  
long since forgotten. Touch them now and they will fall apart in your  
  
hands. My earliest years or the names I've used have long since vanished  
  
with time. It is anyone's guess how old I am. I remember seeing one of  
  
the pyramids under construction, but I don't know which it was or why I  
  
was in Egypt."  
  
"Why are telling me this?" Keller asked incredulously.  
  
Aziz smiled broadly "Haven't you figured it out yet? It is because  
  
you are like me, immortal."  
  
Keller now knew for sure that Aziz was mad and it was time to  
  
make a quick exit. "Well, I want to thank you for showing this to me it is  
  
fascinating, but I really must be going my people are looking for me."  
  
with that Lieutenant Keller started for the door.  
  
"Lieutenant" Aziz said.  
  
Keller found himself looking down the barrel of a silenced, small  
  
caliber revolver. The first bullet ripped through his left side causing him  
  
to drop to one knee in pain. Holding his side Jeremy prepared to jump at  
  
Aziz but the next shot hit him point blank in the chest.........  
  
"Mr. Edwin, I didn't know you were in town." a woman's voice  
  
called out just before the door to the cabin swung open.  
  
Keller jumped to his feet grabbing his .357. A young woman  
  
wearing jeans and a plaid Woolrich shirt stood in the doorway. She had  
  
shoulder length brown hair pulled back in a simple pony tale and wore a  
  
bright smile that dimmed when she saw Jeremy.  
  
The woman seemed un-phased by the large hand gun pointed at  
  
her. "Who are you, and what are you doing in Mr. Edwin's cabin?" she  
  
demanded.  
  
"I was going to ask you about the same thing." Keller said  
  
keeping the gun trained on the woman.  
  
"I doubt you were going ask me about Mr. Edwin." the girl took a  
  
step side ways eyeing up Keller's belongings. "Are you that guy who  
  
drove his car into the river. You know, they're bringing a barge all the  
  
way down from Pottsburg just to fish it out?"  
  
"I'm flattered they care that much, are you going to tell them I'm  
  
here."  
  
"Well, if you put down that empty revolver I might consider not  
  
getting involved."  
  
Jeremy turned the gun on its side looking at it then dropped the  
  
chamber opened. He looked at the girl through the six empty holes and  
  
smiled. "My name is Jeremy," he said then snapped the gun shut and laid  
  
it on the table. "and I'm just passing through."  
  
The girl smiled back "I'm Mindy, pleased to meet you."  
  
The two sat down at the table facing each other. "Why are you  
  
running from the police?"  
  
Jeremy looked at the girl, "You sure don't pull any punches, do  
  
you?"  
  
"No, and that doesn't answer my question."  
  
"I killed a man in Virginia, it was self defense, but there are other  
  
complications that make it very difficult for me to deal with the police at  
  
this time."  
  
"OK then, I'll change the subject for now." Mindy looked around  
  
the room and said "Are you still in the military?"  
  
"What makes you think I'm in the army?"  
  
"I didn't say army, I said military and that is the only place a  
  
professional hard case like you comes from."  
  
Jeremy smiled, he definatly did not care to answer any questions  
  
about himself. "You know, you'll have to stay here until I'm ready to  
  
leave."  
  
"I figured as much."  
  
Jeremy sat back and looked at the young woman, this was going  
  
to be long night.  
  
to be continued.......................... 


	6. Part 6

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

****

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by Old Scout  
  
Part 6  
  
Agent Ropper was discussing the search plans with Sheriff  
  
Bigalow when they noticed someone at the far side of the bridge. A  
  
young woman was approaching the deputies working there. The Sheriff's  
  
radio crackled to life "Sheriff, Mindy is here and insists on seeing you."  
  
"Mindy?" Agent Ropper asked.  
  
"That's my daughter, I wonder what she's doing here." Sheriff  
  
Bigalow then radioed, "Would you bring her on over, Mike."  
  
Five minutes later the young woman was at the command post.   
  
Sheriff Bigalow looked over his daughter, she was slightly disheveled,  
  
like she had been up all night, but other wise was bright and alert. She  
  
even looked to be wearing the same clothes she'd had on yesterday when  
  
she visited the bridge. "Mindy, what's wrong, you look like you've been  
  
up all night."  
  
The girl went straight to the Sheriff's personal thermos and poured  
  
herself some coffee. "The guy from the car is still alive." she said after  
  
drinking half of the luke warm coffee in one gulp.  
  
"How do you know?" Agent Ropper spoke up immediately.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sheriff Bigalow said "Mindy, these are Agents  
  
Ropper and Bateman. This is my daughter, Mindy Ann." The Sheriff  
  
turned back to his daughter "How do you know about the driver of that  
  
car."  
  
"I spent the night with him."  
  
"What?!" the Sheriff said sounding very much like the typical over  
  
protective father.  
  
"Don't worry dad, I happened on him in Mr. Edwin's cabin. He  
  
had a fire going and was drying out his clothes. He was a perfect  
  
gentleman and didn't lay a hand on me." Mindy said then downed the rest  
  
of her coffee.  
  
"You said you spent the night with him?" Agent Ropper asked.  
  
"Yes, he couldn't let me just leave before he was ready, so I sat  
  
and talked to him while he dried and packed his things. Then he tied me  
  
to a chair so he could get some sleep and a head start. He must have left  
  
about six o'clock this morning.  
  
"What did he look like, did you get his name?" Sheriff Bigalow  
  
asked his daughter.  
  
"He's about six feet tall, has a dark tan and short hair. Oh, he said  
  
his name is Jeremy"  
  
"What else, color of his hair is he fat or thin? any scars?" Anita  
  
pushed.  
  
"He's thin, but very well built and athletic. I think he had brown  
  
hair, but its was hard to tell in the light and with it being so short."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Yea, I think he was in the military or something."  
  
"Why?" the sheriff asked.  
  
"The way he looked, the clothes he wore the way he handled his  
  
weapons, things like that?"  
  
Sheriff Bigalow perked up "What weapons, did he threaten you?"  
  
Mindy then described the pistol and shotgun and the few other  
  
things she had seen.  
  
Ropper looked at her watch 11 o'clock "He's got about five hours  
  
on us, where's this cabin?"  
  
As Ropper spoke the sheriff grabbed his hat and coat and headed  
  
to his car. "Let's go see what he left us." The Sheriff was also on the  
  
radio issuing an all points bulletin on the description from Mindy.  
  
The cabin was clean with a full supply of freshly cut wood on the  
  
porch. After looking inside from the door way, Agent Ropper stopped  
  
everyone from entering. She could have forensics here by evening and  
  
realistically didn't expect this man to be picked up hitch-hiking by one of  
  
these local cops.  
  
"Now Agent Ropper, I don't want to tell you how to do your job,"  
  
Sheriff Bigalow was saying "but I don't think you'll need your  
  
Washington boys. My men will have this Jeremy fella picked up by sun  
  
down. We know this country like our own back yards. There's no place  
  
for him to go. A stranger toting a big green duffel bag will stick out like  
  
a sore thumb."  
  
"Well Sheriff, no disrespect, but I've been chasing this guy for a  
  
long time. If your men miss him this cabin is the only thing I have to  
  
identify him with." Anita said waving her hand at the open door.  
  
"Do as you wish, Agent Ropper." the Sheriff said tipping his hat  
  
"I have a man-hunt to conduct."  
  
"Dad" Mindy called to her father as he walked away from the  
  
cabin. The girl had been talking with one of the deputies waiting for her  
  
father to be available.  
  
"Yes dear?"  
  
"Please tell your men to be careful."  
  
"Why, you don't want this man to get hurt? Darling don't worry  
  
he's not worth it."  
  
"No that's not it."  
  
"What then?"  
  
Mindy had a very serious look on her face. "Tell them to be  
  
careful, Jeremy seemed like a very nice guy but he's dangerous, I could  
  
feel it."  
  
Sheriff Bigalow put an arm around his daughter's shoulder.   
  
"Don't worry, I'll warn my men, they'll be careful, I promise."  
  
After arranging for the forensics team, Agent Ropper called her  
  
people in Virginia Beach for a report on Greg Newbury. What they had  
  
didn't make any sense. Of the swords, two had fingerprints from recent  
  
murder victims, all beheadings. But the weirdest part was the other  
  
things in the storage room. Year books dating back to the early  
  
twenties. Every single book had a picture of Newbury in it. In the sixty or  
  
so issues, Newbury used only six different names. The agency had begun  
  
an extensive background check trying to confirm the authenticity of the  
  
year books and trying to track down the men pictured in all of the books.  
  
The Brass wanted to prove one of the only two possible solutions,  
  
either the books were forgeries, or Newbury came from a long line people  
  
with a very strong family resemblance. Ropper considered the other  
  
possibilities. Newbury may have been alive since the 1920s and going to  
  
High School the whole time. Or perhaps a time traveler trying to make a  
  
name for himself.  
  
Ropper's gut told her that the year books were genuine, and that  
  
Newbury did not come from a long line of look alike cousins. Some how,  
  
the man they were chasing knew the truth. Ropper didn't know why the  
  
answers to Newbury's secret's lie with his killer, but they did.  
  
To be continued........................


	7. Part 7

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
By Old Scout

Part 7  
  
The old tractor-trailer rig pulled up to the deserted intersection.   
  
It was 8 o'clock in the evening and the bright orange sun settled on the  
  
horizon glaring through the tractor's windshield. The driver had long  
  
graying black hair and a thick beard. His face was rough from a life  
  
time working in the elements. The man chomped on the stub of a cigar  
  
that hadn't seen a flame in hours.  
  
"Here's were I turn south." the driver said to his passenger.  
  
The passenger opened his seat belt and buttoned his denim jacket  
  
then reached behind the seat and grabbed his green duffel. "Otto, thanks  
  
for the lift." Jeremy said to the driver.  
  
"Us vets gotta stick together." the driver said then smiled "even  
  
with you navy punks."  
  
Jeremy laughed "Well the Navy's a dirty job, but somebody's got  
  
to have the balls to do it."  
  
"Take care friend." Otto said and shook Jeremy's hand just before  
  
he jumped from the cab.  
  
Jeremy watched the eighteen wheeler rattle down the road away  
  
from him. He turned to the west and stared toward the distant horizon.   
  
The smell of the diesel fuel that still hung in the air took Jeremy back to  
  
another place and time......  
  
After recovering from the gun shot wounds, Jeremy was much  
  
more receptive to what Aziz had to tell him. The man had laid it all out,  
  
about something called "The Game", the life force he could feel in other  
  
immortals called "quickening" and other aspects of life as an immortal.  
  
"Of course your safe from the game here." Aziz said.  
  
"Safe, why is that."  
  
Aziz waved his hand at the surrounding country side. "The whole  
  
Kingdom is considered Holy ground. No immortal would dare take your  
  
head within the borders of Saudi Arabia."  
  
"How convenient."  
  
"There's only one draw back."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
Aziz smiled "Saudi Arabia is one of the few countries left in the  
  
world that executes people by beheading. Get into trouble here and a  
  
death sentence really could be one."  
  
"Tell me something, Abual."  
  
"Yes my friend."  
  
"About this game, what's the truth behind it? It just sounds like  
  
a myth, or perhaps a religion. No concrete proof, just stories and  
  
tradition. Has there ever been anybody who totally ignored the rules of  
  
the game?"  
  
Aziz seemed to get very serious. "Jeremy, take heed my advise.   
  
Even if the Game is a myth don't break its rules. If you do, every  
  
immortal out there will be looking for you. There are many very strong  
  
and powerful immortals who would never hunt a man just for his  
  
quickening, but ignore the rules and you'll be the target of some of the  
  
most skilled warriors who have ever walked this earth."  
  
"Do you really believe in the 'Game' and the 'Prize'?"  
  
Aziz turned and walked away for a few steps then turned back  
  
toward the young man with him. "There was a time once, before the rise  
  
of current civilization when man reached a similar but different peak.   
  
There are a few relics from this age around now. Just hints of it in the  
  
ruins of ancient cities.  
  
"In these times, Immortals were known and integrated in the  
  
societies. Some places worshipped our kind as gods, others as royalty.   
  
To some we were just a commodity, good warriors and expensive  
  
gladiators. After the great catastrophe, many people survived, but the  
  
great civilization was destroyed. Humans were back to hunting and  
  
gathering, everything was gone.   
  
"In a few places like Egypt and other fertile lands a few people,  
  
mostly immortals, with the skills of the ancients tried to bring man back  
  
to his feet. This is when immortals went into hiding and handed off the  
  
rebuilding of the human race to others. Sometime, the Game came into  
  
being. I don't know when it started or how it started. One story says  
  
that an immortal saw the ever growing number of new immortals and in  
  
his infinite wisdom developed the Game. However it started, it has  
  
condemned immortals to life in the shadows. Passing through the  
  
centuries watching mortals living and dieing natural deaths all the while  
  
trying to kill each other off."  
  
"So we went from being one of the major influences in human  
  
civilization, to living secret lives bent on self annihilation?" Jeremy  
  
asked.  
  
"That's about it."  
  
"Aziz, are you one of the Ancients?"  
  
Aziz smiled "Does it matter?"  
  
Later that day, Aziz drove Jeremy to Dhahran to rejoin the  
  
American forces. He was dropped off down the road from a US  
  
compound on the out skirts of Dhahran called Kobar Towers. Kobar  
  
Towers was a large complex of 7 story apartment buildings built by the  
  
Saudis for the Bedouins. The Bedouins, however, weren't interested so  
  
the complex had stood empty for many years.   
  
Jeremy approached the heavily fortified entrance to Kobar  
  
carefully. He still wore the sandals he had been given and the long  
  
sleeve white shirt but had changed into levis to look less Saudi. The  
  
MPs on duty watched him carefully as he approached, always keeping  
  
several loaded weapons on him.  
  
A Sergeant approached "Halt, identify yourself."  
  
"My name is Lieutenant Keller, U.S. Navy." Jeremy then handed  
  
the Sergeant the small cloth bag he was carrying which held his  
  
remaining gear, including weapons.  
  
"I'm Master Sergeant Murphy." the man said as he looked in the  
  
bag and took a quick inventory of the gear. He recognized the remains  
  
of Keller's wet suit and the special forces weapons. "Come with me."   
  
The MPs then escorted Keller into the guard booth.......  
  
Jeremy approached a small bar several miles from where Otto  
  
had dropped him off. Motorcycles and old trucks sat parked outside and  
  
the remains of a neon sign flickered in the evening sun. The place  
  
appeared to be a one stop shop for low end travelers. The main building  
  
was a bar / restaurant, behind it was a run down garage with broken  
  
windows and towering old gas pumps. All around, the remains of  
  
forgotten cars sat sinking into piles of rust.   
  
"Looks harmless enough." Keller thought to himself then shifted  
  
the bag on his shoulder and headed in.  
  
to be continued..................


	8. Part 8

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout  
  
Part 8  
  
It had been a full day since Mindy Bigalow had led them to the  
  
Edwin cabin, in that time the agency forensics team had arrived and  
  
completed a sweep of the residence. The team found very little, a partial  
  
finger print and some fresh hair samples in the bathroom. Another  
  
breakthrough was a very good artist's sketch of their man "Jeremy".  
  
Copies of the sketch were going to be circulated back along the  
  
road from the east. The hope was that some store clerk would remember  
  
him or they might find some tape of him on a surveillance camera. It  
  
was a long shot, but she needed to build a profile on this man and some  
  
film of him would help a lot.  
  
What also would help would be if someone were able to catch  
  
him. Sheriff Bigalow's men couldn't find any trace of him after he left  
  
the cabin and were convinced that he was still hiding in the area. Agent  
  
Ropper had her doubts, he had already driven by them once, then spent  
  
the night just two miles down stream from where they were looking for  
  
him. The man knew when to hang tight and when to move on. He had  
  
obviously moved on.  
  
Agent Ropper was packing her small bag to return to Virginia  
  
when a call came in on the cellular.  
  
"Agent Ropper?" a voice crackled as the static cleared.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"This is Agent Kent with forensics, it looks like we have a match  
  
on the prints and sketch you sent us."  
  
"Great, what do you have."  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but the information is classified. You will  
  
have to come to the office to see the file."  
  
"You've got to be kidding, can you even give me a name?"  
  
"Sorry, this is an unsecured line."  
  
Anita shrugged. She was on her way to the office anyhow. At  
  
least now she had reason for going back. If this man really was  
  
classified, no wonder why her people had her on the case. Of course if  
  
that were it, they would have just told her who he was and send her off  
  
to do her thing. The odds are, he was a renegade from another  
  
department who had disowned him. If that were the case, she would be  
  
getting zero help from the other agency. They would be off trying to deal  
  
with him on their own terms.  
  
"I should be there by three o'clock."  
  
"I'll see you then."  
  
Anita disconnected and put the phone back in her bag.  
  
Arrivieng back in Virginia on schedule, Anita promptly looked  
  
up Agent Kent. Chris Kent was medium height in his mid-thirties and  
  
slightly balding with a bit of a gut from spending too many consecutive  
  
weeks at his computer. On his wall was a two year old car calendar  
  
frozen at December when it had run out of months. Pasted to his  
  
monitor and other places around the desk where choice cartoons from a   
  
desktop "Far Side" calendar that was sitting on a near by filing cabinet.   
  
The Far Side Calendar was only several days behind.  
  
A thin folder of recent computer print outs was all Kent had to  
  
offer. The man profiled was named Jeremy Keller. His past was sketchy  
  
to say the least, a street kid from Chicago, worked his way through a  
  
community college then into the Navy and Officer Candidate School.   
  
The next part confirmed her suspicions, Jeremy Keller had been a Navy  
  
Seal. As a member of Seal Team Three, Keller served in the Persian  
  
Gulf during the war and resigned his commission as soon as the war  
  
was over.  
  
His next endeavor was what made his dossier confidential, Keller  
  
was recruited by a branch of the CIA for covert operations. His team's  
  
major theater of operations was the former Soviet block. Their main  
  
mission was finding and destroying sensitive stolen Soviet munitions to  
  
prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. On his last mission, his  
  
helicopter crashed in northern Chechnya, Keller was the only survivor  
  
and had to walk out on his own.   
  
When Keller was finally recovered, he was in perfect condition  
  
showing no signs of the ordeal he had just endured. Some in the Agency  
  
accused him of being not completely candid during his debriefing.   
  
Others went so far as to blame him for the crash of the Blackhawk and  
  
the loss of his team. How else could he explain coming out totally  
  
unscathed by such a high intensity crash. Keller told the investigating  
  
panel to "Go to hell." then walked out the front door and disappeared.  
  
"Has anybody been in contacted with you since you pulled this  
  
information?" Ropper asked Agent Kent.  
  
"No Ma'am, but I could tell that my search files had been  
  
accessed."  
  
"What would they have gotten from that."  
  
"With the information from my files, they would be able to pull  
  
all of our records on the Keller case and any related material."  
  
"Well, I guess they don't mind we know about Keller, they're just  
  
going to try to find him first."  
  
"They must know something about him we don't"  
  
Anita tapped the file "You've got a three page outline of a very  
  
dangerous field agent, there's a LOT they know about him that we  
  
don't." she looked at the file again "But I intend to find out as much as I  
  
can."  
  
"So where do you go from here?"  
  
Ropper opened the file and pointed to the names of ex-  
  
commanding officers "Get to know the man through the people who  
  
knew him. Perhaps someone can give me a clue to where he's going."  
  
"That seems like a long shot, now that we know who he is, won't  
  
it be easier to find him?"  
  
"Nobody's going to find this man unless by accident or until he  
  
wants to be found." Anita said as she reached for her jacket. "And even  
  
when found, catching him will be another story."  
  
"Where are you going first?"  
  
Anita flipped the folder open and pointed at a name. "I'll start  
  
with the person who would know him best."   
  
The next day Anita tracked down the man she was looking for.   
  
Luckily, he had retired from the Navy and now taught at Annapolis. He  
  
was a hard man to find, but finally surfaced on a local firing range. He  
  
had just finished a round with a .357 magnum revolver.  
  
"Commander Parker?" Anita inquired as she approached. The  
  
man was the only person on the range and smiled when he turned and  
  
saw her.  
  
"Yes ma'am" he said as he pulled the shooting muffs off his ears  
  
and dropped them around his neck. "How can I help you?"  
  
Anita introduced herself and showed her picture of Jeremy  
  
Keller. "Do you know this man?"  
  
"Lieutenant Keller? Yes I know him, he served with me in the  
  
Navy, a good man, one of the best." Parker looked puzzled "May I ask  
  
why your looking for Lieutenant Keller?"  
  
"Mr. Keller is wanted for questioning in the death of a man in  
  
Virginia Beach."  
  
"Well, Agent Ropper, the Jeremy Keller I knew wouldn't hurt  
  
anyone except in self defense. Besides that, there really isn't much I can  
  
tell you about him. He resigned as soon as we got back from the Gulf,  
  
and I haven't seen him since."  
  
"I see, so you wouldn't happen to know where out west he may  
  
be headed?"  
  
"Couldn't tell you, like I said I haven't seen him since he quit and  
  
I never really knew him personally."  
  
Ropper looked at the pistol the man had dropped the shells out  
  
of and laid on the shooting bench. "That's a very interesting weapon,  
  
may I?" Anita said and held out her hand.  
  
"Of course."  
  
Anita looked at the bright metal gun. "What is this, it's not  
  
chrome?"  
  
"No, its stainless steel, SEALs carry them because they are  
  
simple and don't rust. The last thing we needed was a rusted weapon  
  
when we got in a jam."  
  
Feeling its weight, Anita looked down range at the target Parker  
  
had been shooting at. In the center was a tight cluster of six holes. "Do  
  
you mind if I give it a try?"  
  
"Not at all." Parker handed Ropper a speed loader with six  
  
rounds ready to go.  
  
After removing her long coat and dropping it near Parker's, Anita  
  
took a casual stance and fired six quick shots at a fresh target. All shots  
  
landed in a pattern similar to Parker's. "Nice gun, thanks." Anita said  
  
as she dropped the empty shells into the same bag Parker had dropped  
  
his into.  
  
"Good shooting" Parker said as he looked down range at Agent  
  
Ropper's target.  
  
"Thank you, now if you can think of anything that will help me  
  
find Lieutenant Keller, I'd appreciate a call." Anita handed Parker one of  
  
her business cards. "The number is my cell phone so you call me any  
  
time." She then reached down and picked up her jacket knocking  
  
Parker's stuff to the ground. Amongst the scattered belongings was an  
  
old, short sword.  
  
Commander Parker was on the stuff immediately.  
  
"Commander, exactly what do you teach?"   
  
Parker smiled as he re-packed his gear "History, why?"  
  
"Just curious about the sword?"  
  
"Oh that, I collect them. I guess it's just something I fell into a  
  
long time ago."  
  
Anita shook Parker's hand one last time. "Interesting hobby.  
  
Well don't forget to give me a call if you can think of anything. Even the  
  
smallest thing may help us find him."  
  
With that Agent Ropper was gone. Tim Parker continued to look  
  
at the target she had left behind. Then finally brought both targets  
  
forward for a better look. After staring at both for several minutes he  
  
laid one over the other. Ropper's pattern was a perfect match for his.  
  
to be continued..............................


	9. Part 9

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout

Part 9  
  
The bar was empty except for six bikers dressed in well worn  
  
black leather and denim. The bar tender wore greasy white cook's  
  
clothing and an apron, his hair was pulled up into a dirty baseball cap  
  
that had a glob of white caulking on the rim with the inscription "Damn  
  
Pigeons" across the front.  
  
"What'll ya' have, bud?" the man said past a shredded toothpick  
  
dangling from the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Can of Bud and a cheese burger." Jeremy replied as he dropped  
  
his bag on a chair and draped his jacket over the back of another.   
  
The man put a can of beer on the bar and popped the top. "Need a  
  
glass?"  
  
"No thanks." Jeremy said as he retrieved the beer and dropped  
  
into the chair next to his bag. "Any place around here a man can crash  
  
for a night?"  
  
"Ya'll can put up in the garage out back if you want." Toothpick  
  
man said with a grin "For say, ah, ten bucks."  
  
Jeremy frowned "I'll think about it."  
  
"Better let me know soon, the price goes up when the sun sets."   
  
The man said then headed in back to start the burger.  
  
Jeremy shook his head then turned toward the window and looked  
  
out through a layer of grime at the clear, blue late afternoon sky.   
  
"Hi, there." a rough female voice said from behind him. With the  
  
voice came the smell of sweat, motor oil and cheap hand lotion.  
  
Jeremy looked at his visitor, she was one of the bikers. Her  
  
greasy, long brown hair was pulled back in a simple pony tail then held  
  
down with a dirty bandanna. Her skin was deeply tanned and weathered  
  
by the open road. The woman wore only torn jeans, motorcycle boots and  
  
a tight leather vest held together by two loose buttons. Jeremy couldn't  
  
help but think that cleaned up, she would probably be quite attractive.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
Jeremy shrugged "Not at all, have a seat." he said and indicated a  
  
chair across the table from him. The woman took the one next to him.   
  
She said that her name was Rita and that her and her friends were on  
  
their way to California to hook up with some new business. She then  
  
asked Jeremy about himself and were he was going.  
  
"Guess I'm headed west looking for work, something'll come up,  
  
it always does." Jeremy had just finished speaking when someone came  
  
out of the back room and headed straight for them.  
  
"RITA!, what the hell you doing over here?" the man was large  
  
and muscular with short blond hair and a mustache. He turned  
  
immediately to Jeremy, "And who the hell are you?"  
  
"No one, I'm just passing through." Jeremy said calmly.  
  
The casual tone and total lack of fear in Jeremy's voice seemed to  
  
enrage the man even more. "Well you just stay the hell away from my  
  
woman."  
  
"I'm not looking for any trouble, I'm just here for something to  
  
eat." Jeremy continued casually, totally unintimidated by the brute. By  
  
now, he had become aware of the gathering attention of the rest of the  
  
flock.  
  
"Tough, punk!" the man said and grabbed Jeremy by the collar  
  
yanking him to his feet. "I'll teach you to get smart with me."  
  
"Get em' Lynx" someone yelled from the group. But before Lynx  
  
could do anything else, Jeremy punched straight out hitting the man fast  
  
and hard in the middle of the breast bone. The man's heart flutter for a  
  
beat and all wind was driven from his lungs. Lynx dropped to the ground  
  
like a sack of flour, landing on his knees doubled over in pain.  
  
Jeremy didn't smile or say a word, just turned for his bag so he  
  
could leave the restaurant. Before he could find the duffel, however,  
  
searing pain ripped through his back.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" came Rita's voice from behind.  
  
Jeremy twisted his hand around his back searching for the pain.   
  
He found the handle of a large knife but couldn't get a grip on it, he could  
  
also feel something warm and wet. His hand came back covered with  
  
bright red blood. The knife stuck high in his back must have struck a  
  
major artery. Things began to blur, and the room started to spin. In the  
  
distance, a voice called out "Get him." Pain exploded in his face as his  
  
nose broke, then the room turned on its side and the floor slammed him  
  
hard on the side of the head. Something landed solidly on his right hand  
  
smashing it against the floor and shattering most of its bones. Soon his  
  
whole body erupted in to pain that quickly faded as his life drained from  
  
him.  
  
Taking his last conscious breath, Jeremy could hear someone say  
  
"Cool it, the cops."  
  
Without saying a word, the gang jumped into action. Rita went  
  
out side to stall the two cops who had pulled up in separate vehicles.   
  
Inside, they worked together to drag Jeremy's body and his belongings  
  
into a back room. They also took up residence at Jeremy's table. Seats  
  
and the table were placed over the largest pool of blood. Between that  
  
and the dim lighting, all sign of the violence of just moments before  
  
disappeared.  
  
Pain surged through Jeremy's body as the quickening brought life  
  
back to him. Every bone and muscle burned as convulsions of healing  
  
ripped through him. The wound in his back continued to flare, Jeremy  
  
found the large knife still inbedded there. Pulling it out caused a fresh  
  
surge of blood that healed quickly.  
  
Jeremy struggled to his feet in near darkness. His eyes adjusted  
  
revealing shelves and other amenities of a store room. With his first step  
  
he stumbled over a large familiar bag. Could it be that these animals  
  
didn't bother to search him. A quick check under his left pant leg  
  
revealed the .357 and the contents of the bag were also undisturbed.   
  
In the bar, the gang was still the only patrons. If the police had  
  
been here, they were gone now. Jeremy watched the group still seated at  
  
his table, his jacket still hung on the back of one of the chairs. The  
  
closest person was actually Rita, she sat at the bar facing into the room  
  
with her back toward him.  
  
Jeremy weighed the woman's knife in his hand and pulled at the  
  
blood encrusted shirt plastered to his body. A plan formed, the thought  
  
wasn't pleasant, but they would definitely get the picture.  
  
Rita never heard him coming till he was right behind her.  
  
"I believe this is yours." Jeremy said slamming the knife down  
  
impaling Rita's right hand to the bar top. The knife went through Rita's  
  
hand and the bar, splattering blood in all directions. He didn't know  
  
which caused Rita to scream the loudest, her right hand impaled by her  
  
own bowie knife or the sight of her blood encrusted victim now standing  
  
beside her.  
  
Jeremy leveled the shot gun at the room and grabbed the .357 out  
  
from the waist of his jeans. Someone called Rita's name, and another  
  
exclaimed "Son of a bitch! your suppose to be dead!"  
  
Jeremy walked into the room pointing both guns at the others.   
  
"Now don't anybody do anything stupid, and no one else will get hurt."  
  
One of the gang jumped at him with a loud scream. Jeremy  
  
leaned back allowing the man to pass in front of him. As the attacker  
  
went by, Jeremy pistol whipped the fool with the .357. The man landed  
  
unconscious at Jeremy's feet with a large gash in the back of his head.  
  
Someone else on the other side of the room used the distraction to  
  
pull a 9mm automatic. Jeremy heard the click of the round slidding into  
  
place and opened fire with the shotgun. A hole the size of a softball blew  
  
through the gunman throwing him against a wall splattering it with blood  
  
and gore.  
  
Jeremy pumped another round into the Remmington and pointed  
  
it at the blond they called Lynx. "You started this little fiasco." Jeremy  
  
said through clenched teeth, then pulled at his blood covered shirt "and  
  
ruined my favorite shirt."  
  
The man just stared at him, he hadn't moved from his seat at the  
  
table. Others around the room adjusted some moving towards him,  
  
others away. Rita was still sobbing, screaming and swearing in the  
  
background.   
  
Pointing the shotgun back at the other four Jeremy ordered them  
  
to sit down, which they did. He then turned back to Lynx "Now the way I  
  
see it, you owe me for one shirt, and pain and suffering." Jeremy lifted the  
  
man's chin with the barrel of the shotgun as he asked "Don't you agree?"   
  
Lynx just looked at him.  
  
"Now what would be adequate compensation?" Jeremy looked out  
  
the window "I know, how about your motorcycle? I think that would be a  
  
start at least, don't you?"  
  
"Kill him, Lynx!" Rita yelled from the bar.  
  
Jeremy stepped back and brought the gun up to eye level. "Well,  
  
what's your decision?"  
  
Lynx reached slowly into his pocket and put the keys to his bike  
  
on the table.   
  
"Good boy, I knew you weren't as stupid as your friend over  
  
there." Jeremy said indicating the body slumped against the far wall. He  
  
then reached for the keys, as he did so, Lynx grabbed for him. Jeremy  
  
swung the butt of the shotgun around slamming the man in the temple  
  
knocking him to the floor.  
  
"Sir, you would have disappointed me if you hadn't of tried  
  
something."  
  
Jeremy took the keys then began to walk around the room. He  
  
picked up his jacket and replaced his destroyed shirt with it, leaving the  
  
rag on the floor. He then went behind the bar and ate the cold cheese  
  
burger that was still waiting for him. All the while, Rita was yelling and  
  
swearing at him as she tried to dislodge her hand from the knife that was  
  
permanently imbedded in the bar.  
  
"One more thing" Jeremy said as he finally left the bar. "If I ever  
  
see any of you again, I will kill you on sight." he then looked directly at  
  
Rita "and I mean any of you. Understood?"  
  
"You son of a bitch!!" Rita yelled one last time as Jeremy went  
  
outside.  
  
The bike Jeremy wanted was obvious, it was a black Harley with  
  
a picture of a lynx on the gas tank. Jeremy secured his bag then headed  
  
out of the lot when he felt the buzz of the quickening. He spun around to  
  
see a new motorcyclist approach from the East.  
  
At the stranger's approach, the others sans Rita, came out of the  
  
bar. The man pulled up about ten feet away. He was large and muscular  
  
with a thick beard and long dark hair. "Mister, you appear to be riding a  
  
bike that belongs to a friend of mine." the immortal said. "If you get your  
  
sorry ass off of it right now, I may let you walk out of here with your  
  
head."  
  
"Lance!" someone yelled "He killed Jake and stuck Rita somethin'  
  
bad."  
  
"Is this true?" the man snarled and uncovered the handle of a  
  
sword.  
  
Jeremy pulled the Remington out and pointed it at Lance. "Its  
  
true, your pack over there bit off more then they could chew, and paid the  
  
price."  
  
"This isn't the time or the place for us." Lance said "Even if you  
  
use your toy there. The game isn't for spectators."  
  
"Game?" Jeremy smiled "I don't play games"  
  
"Everyone plays," Lance said as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes  
  
and a lighter "even pukes like you play, eventually." Just then a gun shot  
  
rang out from the bar. The bullet ripped across Jeremy's chest tearing a  
  
bloody gash in him. A second shot caught him squarely in the side,  
  
almost knocking him off the bike. In response Jeremy pulled the .357  
  
and aimed it back at the shooter, it was the man he had pistol whipped  
  
earlier. Jeremy fired a single shot at his attacker hitting high in the chest,  
  
just below the neck. The man flew back and spun around splattering  
  
blood on the others before landing face down in the dirt.  
  
Lance took the distraction to start for his sword but Jeremy  
  
leveled the shot gun at him. "Your a dead man." Lance said and lit his  
  
cigarette, "I'll catch up with you before that wound heels. Your head will  
  
be mine before the sun is gone."   
  
"I suppose your right." Jeremy said then lowered the shot gun.  
  
Lance suddenly read something in Jeremy's eyes, and panicked. It  
  
was too late. Jeremy shot Lance's gas tank. Gas flashed up exploding  
  
into a fireball tearing both lance and his motorcycle apart. Jeremy  
  
gunned the throttle and rode off calmly down the road not even thinking  
  
of looking back.  
  
to be continued....................... 


	10. Part 10

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
by OldScout

Part 10  
  
Late in the evening after meeting Agent Ropper, Tim Parker was  
  
leaving his campus office when he felt the rush of the quickening. Tim  
  
placed his brief case on a near by bench and drew his sword. He held the  
  
short weapon close to his body hiding it so a distant onlooker couldn't see  
  
it.  
  
"Who's ever out there," he said in a subdued voice "lets see ya'."  
  
A figure emerged from behind the corner of a building and  
  
approached across the freshly cut lawn. It was a thin man wearing a  
  
long, expensive trench coat. In the dim light of the sparse street lights  
  
Parker couldn't make out any features but he could tell the man had short  
  
hair and was neatly groomed. The stranger opened the tie on his coat as  
  
he approached, but did not draw his sword.  
  
"I'm not here to fight, Commander." the man said as he stepped  
  
into the light. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties very  
  
well dressed. In the spotty light, it appeared that the London Fog  
  
protected a very expensive designer suit.  
  
"It appears you have me at a disadvantage." Parker said in lieu of  
  
asking for the man's name.  
  
The man smiled "I think that is highly unlikely." he stopped two  
  
sword lengths from Parker and said "My name is Peter Gattlin, and I was  
  
hoping you could help me find a friend of yours."  
  
Tim lowered his sword and returned it beneath his coat but did  
  
not secure it. "And which friend is that?"  
  
"I'm looking for Lieutenant Keller."  
  
"Your the second person today to ask about Keller. Why?"  
  
"Agent Ropper and I are sort of on the same case." Gattlin said.  
  
"Only she doesn't know about me."  
  
"You work for the government?"  
  
"In a fashion, just as you still do."  
  
"What does that mean, and what do you want with Keller?"  
  
"I'm head of an office in the CIA that occasionally recruits our  
  
kind."  
  
"The government knows about us?"  
  
"Not at all, only a few key individuals who are involved in  
  
working with the agents."  
  
Parker was dumbfounded "You recruit immortals to be spys, I 've  
  
never heard of this."  
  
"Actually, we are quite choosy who we approach, usually new  
  
immortals who do not care to play the Game. Your Lieutenant Keller  
  
seems to fit the bill perfectly."  
  
"That's why I've never been approached?"  
  
"Exactly." Gattlin said with a smile. "From what I've been able to  
  
piece together, once you joined the Game, you hunted with a fervor."  
  
"I haven't been a hunter for over two hundred years."   
  
"Yes, but all of those centuries you did hunt are still part of you."  
  
Gattlin looked at his watch holding it toward the street light. "Now about  
  
Lieutenant Keller, I do have an appointment to keep."  
  
Parker looked at the man in front of him perhaps this was a good  
  
place for Jeremy, perhaps it was a trap. My best bet is to try to control  
  
the play. "Best I can think of, is Jeremy once mentioned a friend in  
  
Seattle. I couldn't tell you his name though."  
  
"Thank you, at least Lieutenant Keller will have a chance of a  
  
productive life with us."  
  
As the man walked away, Parker called after him "Gattlin, if your  
  
lying to me or betray Jeremy, I'll come for you. I have the resources to  
  
find you were ever you hide."  
  
Gattlin half turned around and looked Parker in the eyes "I would  
  
expect nothing less."  
  
Once he got back to his car, Tim Parker punched a long series of  
  
numbers into his scrambled satellite phone. "Duncan, hi, it's Timothy  
  
Parcon yes it has been far too long. Listen, Mac, I think a young friend of  
  
mine, who I once mentioned your name to, is coming for your help...."   
  
As he spoke, he pulled Agent Ropper's card from his pocket and studied  
  
the celluar number printed there.  
  
to be continued................


	11. Part 11

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 11  
  
Officers Bob Jacobs and Ryan Woods had been back at the  
  
station for about an hour when Berry from the garage came up to see  
  
them. Berry was a short skinny man, very fastidious and neat. He was  
  
like no other mechanic they had ever met, he kept the garages and  
  
vehicles impeccably clean. The man even wore a white lab coat instead  
  
of the industry standard coveralls.   
  
"I wish you guys would tell me when you've been at a crime  
  
scene." He said as he approached them in the hall.  
  
Bob and Ryan exchanged looks "What are you talking about."  
  
"If you had told me about the blood you had tracked into your  
  
cars, I would have been able to get to it when it was fresh, it's a lot easier  
  
to clean that way." Berry had a way of making something that irritated  
  
him greatly sound like it was just part of a normal conversation.  
  
"Blood?" the two officers looked at each other. "We've both done  
  
nothing today but write speeding tickets." Bob said.  
  
"Well," Berry replied "you both found some blood to walk in  
  
some where."  
  
"The only place we were both at today was the Neon Moon."  
  
Ryan said. "and there was nothing going on there, just a few bikers  
  
sitting around."  
  
"Come to think of it." Bob continued as the fog lifted from his  
  
over worked mind. "Fred the bartender was acting really weird, barley  
  
said a word the whole time."  
  
Both men came to the same conclusion at the same time. "Shit!"  
  
Officer Jacobs said as the two headed for the door. "Try to get Fred on  
  
the phone." tell him we're on our way out if you can."  
  
In the early morning mist, Anita Ropper pulled her rental car  
  
over to the side of the road behind several state police vehicles. They  
  
were all parked on the road since the bar's whole parking lot had been  
  
cordoned off. Luckily, this area was the jurisdiction of State police and  
  
not some local good'ole boys.  
  
Several state troopers approached Anita as soon as she got out of  
  
her car and inspected her ID very carefully. When they were satisfied,  
  
they escorted her to the detective in charge.  
  
Anita was lead to the only other woman on the site who greeted  
  
her with a smile. "Agent Ropper, its nice to meet you, I'm Detective  
  
Mary Janoitz. I hear you may be looking for the man who did this?"   
  
After looking over the empty parking lot with its burnt up motor  
  
cycle Anita said "Perhaps, what do we have?"  
  
Janoitz lifted the yellow tape that surrounded the lot and let  
  
Anita under then followed her. "We have a mess, two bodies, two  
  
missing bodies, a witness who is talking non-sense and four other  
  
witnesses that we'll probably never be able to find."  
  
Their first stop was the remains of a motorcycle. A forensics'  
  
team had surrounded the site and was just finishing its search. "What  
  
do you have for me?" Detective Janoitz asked as they approached.   
  
"Well, ma'am," one of the men said. "We do have samples of  
  
blood and tissue on the remains of the seat and bike. I would say  
  
somebody was sitting on this thing when it exploded but we have no  
  
idea where the body is. The explosion would not have been great  
  
enough to throw a man more then ten feet."  
  
"Could a man have survived and been able to walk away?"  
  
Agent Ropper asked.  
  
The man looked at detective Janoitz who nodded permission for  
  
him to answer. "Who ever was sitting on this thing when it blew up was  
  
shredded and burned, very ugly and painful way to die."  
  
The two women then approached the building. In front was a  
  
marked spot next to a pool of dried blood where the first body was  
  
found. Anita was handed Polaroid's of the body. It was stripped and  
  
rolled wearing only a blood soaked T-shirt and filthy brown underwear.   
  
Next to it was a pile of burnt cloth.  
  
"Who moved the body before these pictures were taken?" Anita  
  
asked.  
  
"That's the way we found him."  
  
Anita pointed to the pile of cloth in the picture. "Can I see this?"  
  
Detective Janoitz motioned to an aid who quickly produced a  
  
large clear plastic bag. Agent Ropper put on a pair of latex gloves and  
  
pulled some of the things out. In it was a set of burned and shredded  
  
clothing, including a pair of pants, leather jacket and some kind of shirt.   
  
The stuff smelled of smoke, gas and burnt flesh. Anita dropped the  
  
everything back into the bag without saying a word.  
  
The next stop was the bar. Portable lights had been set up to  
  
highlight the areas of interest, including a pool of blood in the middle of  
  
the room, a marked spot against the far wall where another body had  
  
been found and a large knife imbedded nearly to its hilt in the bar.  
  
"What happened in here?" Antia said trying to take in the scene.  
  
"Best we can tell," Janoitz said "two people must have been  
  
attacked here in the middle of the room then dragged into the back and  
  
left for dead. Apparently one of them survived, because he came back  
  
fighting." Mary then indicated the bar "He impaled someone's hand to  
  
the bar. They would of had to cut the hand all the way through to get  
  
away."  
  
"Why do you think two people were attacked?"  
  
"We followed the trail of blood into the store room where there is  
  
another pool of blood. You can see the marks of blood and foot prints as  
  
someone pulled them selves up and walked back out. There had to have  
  
been two victims because there is no way someone could have lost that  
  
much blood and come back fighting."  
  
The detective then indicated a path around the bar. "He came out  
  
and immediately stabbed the person here at the bar. He then walked into  
  
the middle of the room, where he probably shot the man over there. It  
  
then looks like he walked around the bar several times, even stopping  
  
behind it to eat a burger. We have some very good bloody finger prints  
  
from the store room and the plate the burger was on, we've already  
  
matched them to your Jeremy Keller."  
  
"Did you find anything that may have belonged to Keller?"  
  
Ropper asked  
  
"Besides empty shot gun shells? Well, we did find a blood  
  
soaked shirt that doesn't match any of the wounds of the bodies we have,  
  
it must be from the second victim."  
  
Anita examined the shirt they produced. The blood it was  
  
soaked in had come from a large gash in the back. "Why would he  
  
switch clothes on the other victim?"  
  
"I don't know, perhaps so it wouldn't look like a body."  
  
Anita dropped the bag on a table and said "What if there was one  
  
man attacked here?"  
  
"What?" the surprise in Detective Janoitz's face was forced. Her  
  
two victim theory was obviously devised to explain the impossible.  
  
"If it was just one man who was attacked, it would explain why  
  
there is no body in back, and why he changed clothes." Anita said as she  
  
paced about the room once.  
  
"That's not possible," Janoitz whispered "The wound in that shirt  
  
is fatal, and the blood in here proves it."  
  
Anita frowned "Lieutenant Keller has a knack for walking away  
  
from deadly encounters. That's what makes him so damned hard to  
  
catch. Now you said there was a witness."  
  
"He's down at the station, but nobody's been able to get through  
  
to him."  
  
"Mind if I have a chat with him?"  
  
"Not at all."  
  
to be continued..............


	12. Part 12

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"  
** By OldScout  
Part 12  
  
Jeremy rode Lynx's motorcyle late into the night until his wounds  
  
and loss of blood forced him to pull over. A deserted barn and an old pile  
  
of hay offered him the little comfort he needed. Jeremy's small flashlight  
  
revealed a wrecked car someone had pushed into one corner. A quick  
  
exam revealed the manufacturer Huyndai. As he drifted off to sleep,  
  
Jeremy remembered another place he had seen that manufacturer.  
  
Lieutenant Keller sat in the MP station for several hours while the  
  
Army checked him out with the Navy. Outside the room's only window  
  
was a power junction box with the name Huyndai emblazed across its  
  
green casing. Finally, a Captain came in to see him. He was a big man,  
  
maybe 6'2", muscular with a slight gut. He was dressed in full army  
  
battle dress uniform, including helmet, flak jacket under which was a  
  
utilty belt with suspenders. The ever present gas masked case was  
  
secured to his left leg and the MOPsuit roll bounced at the back of his  
  
belt.  
  
"Lieutenant Keller?"  
  
Jeremy had stood as the Captain entered the room. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"I'm Captain Harvey, welcome to Kobar Towers." The man said.   
  
"Well Lieutenant, it looks like we'll have the pleasure of your company  
  
for a few days. It seems your ship is still out and and we won't be able to  
  
arrange a seat to Bahrain for you 'till Friday."  
  
"Captain, Sir, I'm glad to be here, the alternative just isn't  
  
acceptable." Jeremy responded with a smile.  
  
Captain Harvey arranged for an aid to help Jeremy get fitted for  
  
new gear, including desert BDUs, gas mask and replacement ID. Jeremy  
  
was then issued quarters in one of the occupied towers.  
  
They offered to drive Jeremy through the maze of poorly marked  
  
high rises but Jeremy just grabbed a bottle of water and a photocopied  
  
map of the compound and started off on foot. Jeremy made a point of  
  
keeping his right hand free as he walked through the crowed streets, the  
  
Lieutenant bars hanging on his collar insured he would be saluted often.  
  
Kobar towers was a zoo and a mess. The narrow streets were  
  
crowed with military vehicles from Humvees to old cut-vees(diesel  
  
powered chevy blazers). There were also brightly painted civilian  
  
delivery trucks, buses and civilain rental cars used by the military.   
  
Streets, side walks and grounds were dug up as hired crews worked on  
  
the piping trying to get the sewers cleared and the water flowing into the  
  
long abandoned towers.  
  
Which towers were occupied was obvious, clothes, sleeping bags  
  
and other gear hung from the balconys. Half dressed soldiers stood at the  
  
railings watching the goings on around them. Some of the luckier ones  
  
had views between the buildings that afforded them a slight glimps of the  
  
Persian Gulf.  
  
Jeremy finally worked his way through the forest of brown  
  
buildings to the one indicated on his papers. The orange marbled lobby  
  
was filled with soldiers and equiblment. A desk was set up just inside  
  
the door where Jeremy presented his papers and ID.   
  
The sergent on duty examined the orders and called Captain  
  
Harvey "Are you sure you want him with the 23rd?" Jeremy heard him  
  
say, then "Yes, sir, the 23rd. Thank you sir."  
  
The 23rd had the 3rd floor. Their gear was stacked through the  
  
marbled landing and flowed into all four apartments. Guards posted at  
  
the landing checked everybody stopping in the elevator or walking by on  
  
the stairs.  
  
The private on duty checked Jeremy's ID then had a collegue get  
  
command. A thin man with a nearly shaved head came out of one of the  
  
aparments. All the man wore was his desert BDU trousers and a brown  
  
T-shirt. The man's bare feet slapped on the marble as he walked over to  
  
Jeremy.  
  
"Lieutenant Keller?" the man said holding out his hand "I'm  
  
Lieutenant Morre, welcome to the lair of the the 23rd Recon. Captain  
  
Harvey sent word you were coming but didn't say why he sent you to us  
  
or why your here at Kobar."  
  
"Well lieutenant,"Jeremy replied "I'm at Kobar because I got  
  
seperated from my squad and am on my way back to Bahrain." Jeremy  
  
then looked at the bed roll he carried with him. "I'm with you because, I  
  
suppose, you have some clear floor space to sleep on."  
  
The Lieutenant shrugged and led Jeremy into the aparment he had  
  
come from and to one of the back bed rooms. The apartment had no  
  
furniture, just carpeting and bare walls. The unit had arranged their  
  
equitpment into furniture, providing them with some tables and chairs  
  
and other ammenities. Jeremy ended up in Lieutenant Morre's room  
  
which he shared with one other junior officer.  
  
Jeremy dropped his bag in a corner then looked out the window.   
  
Between the other buildings Jeremy thought he could make out the water.  
  
"That's the gulf, we're a lot closer then it seems." Lieutenat Morre  
  
said, then added "You can even see the causeway to Bahrain from the  
  
roof."  
  
"So close and yet so far" Jeremy said to himself.  
  
"Hey you!, what you doing here?" Jeremy woke up to see an old  
  
man with a double barrel shotgun standing over him.  
  
to be continued. .................


	13. Part 13

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 13  
  
Agent Ropper's chat with "Fred" didn't go very well. He kept  
  
mumbling "they're both dead, it's not possible.." From the man's  
  
ramblings, Anita was able to piece together his version of the story.   
  
Keller had come into the bar for a burger, the bikers attacked and  
  
stabbed then dragged him into to the back room when the police officers  
  
stopped by. Keller then came out, stabbed a girl at the bar, killed one  
  
man and took the keys to another's motorcycle. Then outside he shot and  
  
blew up the bike of someone who had just ridden up and killed one of  
  
the bikers who came out of the bar. Now this is were it gets weird, the  
  
man on the bike that blew up, crawled out of the flames, stripped the  
  
clothes off the dead man and took his motorcycle.  
  
Anita looked at her recap. Fred's story was the only one that fit  
  
the evidence to a tee. And there was no way he could have been around  
  
to hear them discussing it. If it wasn't true, or nearly true, then Fred had  
  
staged the whole thing. Anita looked back in at the simple, greasy, fry  
  
cook sitting in the interview room. This man could not makeup and fake  
  
such a wild story. This was another mystery that she knew would be  
  
cleared up as soon as she caught up with Keller.  
  
The town around the police barracks was small but the streets  
  
were busy when Anita left the station. Her rental was parked at the curb  
  
and as she approached it, something seemed familiar. Was it a person  
  
who passed her, a car driving by, or a faint cologne? She glanced in the  
  
reflection of her windshield to see a familiar profile. He was leaning  
  
against his car parked around the corner, almost out of sight. She had  
  
seen him at Langley, then thought she had seem him when she came out  
  
from visiting Parker. Now she knew it was the same man. This must be  
  
the one accessing her reports.  
  
Peter Gattlin had seen Agent Roper come out of the police  
  
station, but some how lost her as she approached her car. He couldn't  
  
watch too closely or go look for her, she may spot him. He'd have to  
  
wait until she returned. He leaned back against his car to get  
  
comfortable and not look out of place. It wasn't long before she showed  
  
herself by thrusting the barrel of a large handgun in his side.  
  
"Don't say a word and don't move" she whispered, "right now I  
  
don't care who you are." She quickly frisked Gattlin as she spoke, first  
  
removing his automatic from his shoulder holster, then she hesitated as  
  
she found his sword.  
  
"You don't know what your getting in to." Peter whispered as  
  
Anita removed his sword, glanced at it then threw it into his back seat.  
  
"Get in the car." She said then placed her gun at the base of his  
  
skull. Peter could hear the click of the trigger being pulled but the  
  
hammer didn't fall. "I don't care how durable you are, if my thumb slips  
  
off the hammer, the top of your head's coming off."  
  
Peter started to speak but she nudged him again toward the  
  
driver's seat. He got in the front and Anita in the back directly behind  
  
him. Gattlin reached for his seat belt out of habit, but she grabbed it.   
  
"Just start driving." Agent Roper said snapping her belt into place.  
  
"Okay" Anita finally said as they passed out of town "talk to me."  
  
"My name is Peter Gattlin I work for a branch of the CIA."   
  
"Aren't you just a bit close to home for the CIA?" Anita sat back  
  
and looked into her chauffeur's eyes through the mirror.  
  
"As you've already discovered, Lieutenant Keller used to work  
  
for us. His departure and subsequent high profile problems have left me  
  
trying to pick up the pieces."  
  
"So what's with the swords?" Roper asked as she examined  
  
Gattlin's blade.  
  
"Nothing, I'm just a collector."  
  
Gattlin's sword thrust through the seat from the back, cutting his  
  
clothes and scratching his side, but not drawing blood. "Bullshit." Anita  
  
growled "Everybody involved in this production is carting swords  
  
around, why?"   
  
Gattlin figured the best bet was to expand on what she thought  
  
she already knew "I carry the sword because Keller is part of a cult that I  
  
have infiltrated. They are an international, ah, brother hood, if you will,  
  
of people who think they are immortal."  
  
Gattlin saw something click in Agent Ropper's eyes. He was  
  
confirming what she wanted to hear.  
  
"Why the swords?"  
  
Gattlin thought for a second then responded "There are two basic  
  
tenants of the 'cult', first they believe the only way to kill one of them is  
  
beheading."  
  
"Its a pretty sure way to kill just about anybody, why are they  
  
obsessed with it?"  
  
"Because of the second tenant." Gattlin said.  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"There can be only one."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The second tenant," Gattlin replied "is 'There can be only one.'   
  
They believe they are put on earth to fight each other to the death until  
  
there is only one left."  
  
"That's insane!"  
  
"Nobody ever said cults were sane, Agent Ropper, just  
  
dangerous."  
  
Anita leaned forward. "That explains a lot of things, the swords,  
  
the year books, the beheadings, everything. But about Keller, he's not  
  
using a sword."  
  
"Keller wants out and refuses to follow the rules, so when they  
  
come after him he kills them but uses his shot gun to get his point  
  
across."  
  
"If he doesn't believe in the cult anymore why behead his  
  
attackers?" Ropper asked  
  
"To let everyone else know to stay away, he's not playing their  
  
game any more."  
  
"You mean they'll kill anybody who tries to leave the cult?"  
  
"Its not that easy, once they draft you, your in. That's why I still  
  
carry the sword when they accepted me, it didn't matter anymore who I  
  
was, they were going to come after me."  
  
Anita looked troubled "You said 'drafted'. What did you mean by  
  
that?"  
  
"It means that you can't join the cult, someone just walks up to  
  
you and either introduces themselves, or tries to cut your head off. Once  
  
that happens, your in, nothing you can do about it."  
  
"And all of a sudden they all know your one of them? Right."  
  
Anita said in disbelief.  
  
"That's one of the things I was investigating, how these people  
  
pick their recruits and communicate with each other." Gattlin was laying  
  
it on thick, but with just enough truth to be believable. "One of the by-  
  
products of this strange net work is that they have many contacts with  
  
other members of the cult. Mostly those who don't like killing become  
  
friends and help shelter one another."  
  
Anita looked at the country side around them, the town had long  
  
since faded. "Pull over here."  
  
"What now?"  
  
"I'm done talking, just pull over and get out of the car."  
  
Gattlin pulled to the side of the road and got out of the car. Antia  
  
then motioned for him to start walking away. "I don't want to see you  
  
anymore, either get better at following me or follow your own leads." she  
  
said as he walked away.   
  
Once Gattlin was far enough away, Anita got into the drivers  
  
seat and turned the car back toward town. When she was fifty yards  
  
away, she stopped the car and threw Gattlin's weapons into the weeds  
  
beside the rode and continued on.  
  
to be continued........


	14. Part 14

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 14  
  
Jeremy sat up in the pile of hay he had used as a bed. "Where  
  
am I?" he said as he tried to clear his head and remember the previous  
  
day.  
  
"Your trespassing." the old man grumbled.  
  
"Sorry, Sir, I just needed some place to crash before I put it in  
  
the ditch." Jeremy said motioning toward the Harley. The bike sat  
  
bathed in the morning sun of the open door.  
  
The man loosened a bit from Jeremy's attitude. "The name's  
  
Henry Wilmont, Hank to my friends."  
  
Jeremy stood up, dust himself off and offered his hand.   
  
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Wilmont, I'm Jeremy Keller, and I really  
  
thought this was an abandoned barn. I didn't mean to intrude."  
  
The old man must have been in his seventies or eighties but still  
  
had a good firm handshake. "It is an abandoned barn, haven't used it in  
  
years. If you hadn't left the door open, you probably could have been in  
  
here for weeks and no one would have noticed.  
  
"If you like blueberry pancakes, Mandy always makes enough  
  
extra for a lost soul or two."  
  
"Well sir, I appreciate the offer, but.."  
  
"But nothing, lets go."  
  
Jeremy knew he had lost this battle so he picked up his bag and  
  
followed the old man across the dew soaked field to a neighboring farm  
  
house. The old man spoke as they made the trek. "My dad gave this  
  
parcel of land to my brother just before the War. First thing we did was  
  
build the barn." the man shrugged. "He never came back so we just  
  
left it go, stored hay in it for awhile, never really made much use of it."  
  
The farm house sat back from the road with several large trees  
  
in the front yard. It was an old two story with white wooden siding, a  
  
detached garage and a newer poll barn in back. A mid seventies Chevy  
  
pickup shared the driveway with an assortment of farm machinery.  
  
Approaching the front door, Jeremy felt the presence of another  
  
immortal. He did his best not to react to the rush, but unexpected buzz  
  
always made him flinch some.   
  
"Mandy," Hank called out as he led the way into the house  
  
"hope you don't mind we have a guest for breakfast..."  
  
A young woman came out from the kitchen. She was about five  
  
and a half feet tall dressed plainly in a long cotton dress. She wore no  
  
make up and wore her hair pulled up in a tight bun. Her figure was full  
  
but she was not fat, she was the stereo-type of a farmer's wife.  
  
The old man stopped talking when he saw that the woman was  
  
holding a sword in her left hand. The weapon was almost hidden in the  
  
folds of her dress. Hank immediately turned around leveling the  
  
shotgun at Jeremy. "Son of bitch, I didn't know he was one of them."  
  
The woman placed her hand on the shot gun lowering it as she  
  
stepped out to meet Jeremy. "I'm Mandy Wilmont." She said offering  
  
her hand "You'll have to excuse Henry, he gets a little over protective  
  
sometimes."  
  
Jeremy shook hands with his hostess and introduced himself,  
  
explaining he was not a hunter, and didn't have any idea she was here  
  
when he stopped.  
  
"Well, didn't Henry say he offered you breakfast? Have a seat.   
  
Hope you like blueberry pancakes and maple syrup."  
  
Jeremy dropped his duffel on a nearby box seat then sat down at  
  
the table. Mandy had mounted her sword back in a rack in the dining  
  
room. It appeared to be a Civil War saber, a small plaque under the  
  
sword read "Col. William Henry Wilmont,6th Cavalry".  
  
They talked about country and the farm, but they never made it  
  
really clear how Mandy and Henry were related. Mandy had lived on  
  
the farm for a very long time. She loved farming and the country life so  
  
much that she would live here as long as possible then go away to  
  
school or something. After awhile she could come back as a grand kid  
  
to "help out on the farm".  
  
During their conversation, someone spotted a neighbor lady  
  
coming up the driveway carrying a fresh baked pie. Mandy sighed,  
  
"Ethal, and I had work to do today." A gleam then sparked in her eyes.   
  
"Jeremy, I don't think we want Mrs. Jordan to interrogate you, we'll  
  
need an excuse for you to have to leave."  
  
"I don't need an excuse," Jeremy laughed "Thanks for the  
  
breakfast and the company, I can just be on my way."  
  
The door bell rang.  
  
"Too late." Mandy said as she headed for the door. Then called  
  
out "Good morning Mrs. Jordan! How are you today?" Mandy was  
  
opening the door for the visitor as Jeremy headed for his duffel.  
  
"Mrs. Jordon, I'd like you to meet my cousin Jeremy." She said  
  
intercepting Jeremy's break for the door.  
  
"Jeremy, what a nice name." the old lady said "won't you join us  
  
for pie and tell me a bit about yourself?"  
  
Mandy interrupted "So sorry he can't Mrs. Jordon." she said  
  
with Jeremy smiling in agreement. "He has to run an errand for me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Remember, you promised to run into town to pick up some  
  
feed for me." She then reached into a pile of debris on an end table and  
  
produced a set of keys. "Here are the keys to the truck." she said  
  
pushing the set on him. "We'll just drop your stuff in here to get it out of  
  
the way." Mandy then lifted the lid on the box seat and dropped  
  
Jeremy's duffel in. She then pushed him out of the house.  
  
On his way out Mandy spoke quickly telling Jeremy it was the  
  
least he could do for his one nights room and board. Besides, Mrs.  
  
Jordan's pies were an acquired taste. She then gave him quick  
  
instructions into town and the feed store.  
  
Jeremy drove off down the road in the Wilmont pickup. How  
  
did this happen? Yesterday, he was a loner, a wanted man running for  
  
his life. Today he's acting like a farm hand fetching supplies. Mandy  
  
Wilmont was indeed a very irresistible woman. Commander Parker  
  
had told him one time that not all immortals would be after his head,  
  
some would accept him immediately like a long lost relative. What ever  
  
had brought him to this point, didn't matter. He would finish this errand  
  
and give Mandy enough time to deal with her neighbor without having  
  
to field too many questions, it would be better for everyone.  
  
As Jeremy crested a hill and disappeared from sight, a group of  
  
motorcycles crested one behind him and approached the Wilmont farm.  
  
to be continued...............  
  
--------


	15. Part 15

Note: See Part 1 for disclaimers.

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 15  
  
The trip for supplies took longer then Jeremy could have  
  
imagined. Mandy said that the turn off was just a few miles down the  
  
rode, it turned out to be ten. She had also made it sound like the feed  
  
store was within sight of the intersection, it was another five miles. At  
  
least they were expecting him, only they were short handed from having  
  
to deal with other early risers.  
  
Waiting for the people to get their act together, Jeremy had time  
  
to think about someone one of the clerks reminded him of. The man was  
  
short, maybe 5'6 and all business. The man he had known he met in  
  
Saudi Arabia while he was staying at Kobar Towers...  
  
Jeremy had just gotten through the line at the Baskin Robbin's  
  
ice-cream truck and was enjoying a pint of Cookies And Cream ice-  
  
cream when he felt the buzz of the quickening. He immediately scanned  
  
the crowd for someone looking for him. A short stocky sergeant stood at  
  
the perimeter of the lot examining the lines of soldiers. The man wore  
  
his full battle dress uniform, including kevlar helmet, utility belt with  
  
MOP suit roll attached to back, and flak jacket. The layer of dirt and  
  
dust on the man made it look like he had just come out of the desert.   
  
The two men caught eyes and Jeremy headed to the sergeant. On  
  
recognizing the Lieutenant bars, the Sergeant immediately snapped a  
  
clean professional salute. "Master Sergeant Thomas McSmithers." the  
  
man said for introduction as Jeremy approached.  
  
Jeremy returned the salute and introduced himself. The two men  
  
then shook hands and started walking away from the crowd.  
  
McSmithers made an obvious gesture of looking at the scenery around  
  
them then said "Sir, Saudi Arabia is a beautiful country, don't you  
  
think?"  
  
"I've seen it mostly from the air and the sea, but I must admit   
  
it is unique." Jeremy responded. "They tell me the whole Kingdom is  
  
considered holy ground." he added.  
  
"Men like us could live here for a very long time." the Sergeant  
  
agreed.  
  
Jeremy decided to not beat around the bush. "Sergeant, I'm new  
  
to the game, could you tell me about yourself, and how you live?"  
  
Sergeant McSmithers smiled "How long have you known what  
  
you are?"  
  
"A couple of days, a Saudi found me on the beach after a failed  
  
mission." Jeremy explained "He told me what I was and explained the  
  
rules, then brought me here."  
  
The other man looked at Jeremy's branch of service on his  
  
uniform. "That must have been some mission, Sir." he then motioned to  
  
one of the many half underground parking garages in the complex. This  
  
one the AirForce had converted into a mess hall. On the top were a few  
  
tables, benches and planters. Each garage had been designed by the  
  
Saudis for double duty, the tops of some were children's play ground,  
  
some where small parks or gardens and other things.  
  
The two walked up the few steps to the long abandoned park and  
  
leaned on one of the marble tables. "Sir, I was born in the new world in  
  
the early sixteen hundreds, I grew up in the Richmond Virginia area and  
  
was killed by a runaway horse cart when I was in my twenties. Since  
  
then I have used countless names and identities, and have spent most of  
  
my time in the military. I was born to be a soldier, and I'm a very good  
  
one." McSmithers then looked at Jeremy. "I am not a warrior though."  
  
Jeremy scrutinized the statement. "You were born to be a  
  
soldier, but not a warrior, isn't that a contradiction?"  
  
"Not really, Sir. Yes, I'm a leader, but I usually end up working  
  
support. Trucking, supplies, quartermaster. This is who I am. An  
  
anonymous truck driver."   
  
"And what do you think I am?" Jeremy asked.  
  
"You, Sir, are a warrior. I can see it in your manner, your style  
  
and in your eyes. If you are not careful, you will die again in battle and  
  
have to explain how you came back. Be careful in this day of high tech  
  
identification, it is becoming exceedingly difficult to rejoin under a new  
  
name after a current ID has been used up."  
  
Jeremy thought about the comments then asked "And how about  
  
the game, how do you deal with it?"  
  
"Actually, the game is easy to avoid in the army. People are  
  
tracked closely, the equipment we carry is all issued, imagine being  
  
caught in sword dual on a base somewhere. It would raise a lot of  
  
questions. The only thing is that many of us are drawn to the military,  
  
we are, almost literally, born to be warriors."  
  
"Tell me," Jeremy asked "have you ever heard of an immortal  
  
who refused to play the game?"  
  
"They've been out there." Sergeant McSmithers said "But they  
  
never last very long. Immortals who don't carry swords and refuse to  
  
fight either get killed quickly by a passing immortal, or hunted down if  
  
they run. The thing is, even if they are good at running, there always  
  
seems to be another immortal waiting were they run to. Playing the  
  
game is the price you pay for your extra time on Earth."  
  
Jeremy looked at the softening pint of ice cream in his hands.   
  
"Well, Sergeant, thank you for your time." Jeremy said and shook the  
  
man's hand. McSmither's saluted and went off on his own, probably  
  
back to his trucks. Jeremy continued to lean on the table and started  
  
slurping down the ice-cream, using the little plastic spoon that had come  
  
with it.  
  
When Jeremy was a quarter mile away from the main road, as he  
  
finally returned with his load of feed he saw a pack of motorcycles pass  
  
headed west on the main road. Only as he turned into the driveway of  
  
the old farm house and found it brutally still did he begin to place who  
  
the motorcycles where.  
  
to be continued.......


	16. Part 16

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

By OldScout  
  
Part 16  
  
The Wilmont farm was dead quiet. Jeremy got out the truck  
  
and approached the house slowly, assessing the scene. The front yard  
  
was matted with motorcycle tracks and loose laundry rolled in the wind  
  
on the side yard. Curtains flapped out of a broken window on the  
  
second floor above the porch.  
  
Jeremy pulled the revolver from his ankle holster and entered  
  
the house slowly. He knew that whoever had been here was gone, but  
  
the reaction was natural. Laying just inside the door against the wall  
  
was Henry Wilmont with two bullet holes in his chest. Blood streaked  
  
across the floor from where he had fallen to where his body had been  
  
pushed aside.  
  
In the kitchen, Jeremy could see Mrs. Jordon slumped sideways  
  
across the table, her gray hair matted with blood. A knife in her hand  
  
was still in stuck in the pie. Jeremy slowly approached the kitchen and  
  
examined the scene. A scoop had been taken out of the middle of the  
  
pie, apparently by hand. Chunks of the pie were also splattered over the  
  
body of the old woman.  
  
Swallowing hard Jeremy turned away from the kitchen then saw  
  
that the sword was out of its mounting. He scanned the front room and  
  
spotted the weapon laying near the stairs to the second floor. Jeremy  
  
approached the weapon then heard water running upstairs.  
  
At the top of the stairs, Jeremy found only one door open.   
  
Glancing in, he first thought the bed had red sheets on it then realized  
  
they were originally white. He looked more closely at the room and  
  
almost lost his breakfast. There was blood everywhere, the bed was  
  
soaked, there were splatters on the walls, floor and the ceiling. Looking  
  
at the ceiling, Jeremy even thought he could see bloody hand prints  
  
above the bed. Everything else in the room was destroyed, clothes and  
  
bedding were scattered everywhere, he even thought he recognized the  
  
cotton dress Mandy had been wearing. It was hard to tell, since it was  
  
shredded and soaked with blood. The room also stank, not only of the  
  
blood and gore, but of urine and other foul odors.  
  
The thought of Mandy brought Jeremy out of his daze. He  
  
could feel her presence from the quickening then turned toward the  
  
sound of water which had originally brought him up here. Leading out  
  
of the bedroom and across the floor to the bathroom was a messy trail of  
  
bloody foot prints.  
  
Jeremy pushed the bathroom door open, not knowing exactly  
  
what he would find. The room was covered with blood stained water,  
  
bloody towels were scattered everywhere and Mandy stood naked in the  
  
bath tub letting the water wash over her. Water splatter to floor around  
  
the claw foot tub.  
  
Mandy turned and looked at Jeremy "You didn't tell me you had  
  
friends." she whispered. Her body was pale and blue like a corpse.   
  
Bright red scars criss-crossed all over her flesh. The remaining clumps  
  
of her long hair straggled across her back.  
  
"I didn't think they would come looking for me." he stammered.   
  
"And I never thought them capable of this."  
  
"They saw the bike in the old barn." Mandy said through the  
  
stream of water running over her face. "There's a linen closet down the  
  
hall, get me some fresh towels."  
  
Jeremy holstered the pistol and fetched the towels as Mandy  
  
stepped out of the tub. She took one of the towels and started drying  
  
herself then headed down the hall toward one of the other bedrooms.   
  
She wasn't even trying to cover herself from Jeremy.  
  
"Bring the towels in here." she said as she entered the room.   
  
"I'm going to need some clothes. In the back of my walk-in closet is an  
  
old hutch, bring me the bottom drawer."  
  
Jeremy hesitated going into the bedroom, but sure as hell didn't  
  
want Mandy to have to go back in. He worked his way into the room  
  
and fetched what she wanted. Fifteen minutes after going into the bed  
  
room Mandy emerged.  
  
Mandy had cut off her remaining hair leaving it shorter then  
  
Jeremy's. She wore black jeans, a gray t-shirt and a large, black  
  
chamois shirt, opened like a jacket. She walked by Jeremy without  
  
acknowledging him then said as she reached the top of the stairs "I'm  
  
going to need your help in the basement."  
  
Jeremy followed the woman into the old basement of the  
  
farmhouse. She looked around the seldom used area. "When we built  
  
this place a hundred years ago, I swore I'd put away my sword for good.   
  
I was tired of playing the game and fighting for my life at every turn."   
  
Mandy rummaged in a corner for a pry-bar and handed it to  
  
Jeremy. She then picked another heavy bar for herself. Mandy  
  
indicated one of the large pieces of slate that made up the floor and the  
  
two started working their tools to dislodge the stone. Soon the rock was  
  
loosened enough to move it enough to reveal a long wooden box.  
  
The woman pushed past Jeremy and lifted the box out of the  
  
hole and put it on a nearby table. In it was an old oiled cloth which she  
  
unfolded revealing an old sword and two daggers. The sword was  
  
plain and straight with just a few non-descript designs carved into the  
  
handle. The blade was a simple two sided weapon that had been forged  
  
smooth, but never polished to a shine. The two daggers matched the  
  
style of the sword one was small, about eight inches from tip of the  
  
blade to the butt of the handle. The other was larger, around twelve  
  
inches long.  
  
Mandy lifted the sword from the box and swung it around a bit.   
  
"This was my father's sword." she said with a somber look in her eyes.   
  
"I thought I had buried this part of my life forever." She then removed  
  
the daggers and closed the box. She quickly stashed the daggers under  
  
her shirt. As she lifted the tail of the shirt, Jeremy realized she was  
  
wearing sheaths for the two weapons, one, a belt sheath secured across  
  
her waist and the other strapped across her back for the longer knife.   
  
"Lets go" she said, "I think they were heading west."  
  
"Your going after them?" Jeremy said, not really surprised.  
  
"They killed my grandson and a woman who was once my best  
  
friend." She shivered a bit "Not to mention what those animals did to  
  
me." She then looked at the young man "If you don't have the stomach  
  
for what needs to be done, I'll understand."  
  
"They came here looking for me, after I warned them to stay  
  
away. I would be going after them no matter what." Jeremy replied.  
  
"Do you have a sword?" Mandy asked as they climbed back up  
  
to the ground floor.  
  
Jeremy lifted the lid to the box seat and pulled his duffel out. "I  
  
don't play the game." he said, "I just protect myself the only way I  
  
know." He then pulled the shotgun out of the bag and started loading  
  
shells into it.  
  
to be continued..............


	17. Part 17

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"  
**  
Part 17  
  
Joe Dawson sat in the small office in the back of his bar. His  
  
computer screen highlighted his face in the darkened office. He heard  
  
someone come in, and figured it was who he expected.  
  
Adam walked into the room "Hi, Joe, what's up?"  
  
Joe motioned to a chair across from him. "Sit down Adam, I've  
  
got some bad news for you."  
  
"What's going on?" Adam asked as he sat on the edge of the  
  
chair and leaned toward his friend.  
  
"It's Ethal Jordan." Joe said.  
  
A look of concerned crossed Adam's face "Mrs. Jordan? did  
  
something happen to her?"  
  
Joe sat back in his chair with a nauseated look on his face. "She  
  
was shot to death this morning."   
  
The loss reflected in Adam's face, he had known her for over 10  
  
years and had thought of her like a grandmother. "Was it related to  
  
business?"  
  
"It's hard to tell." Joe said "She was visiting the Wilmonts and  
  
was killed there. They found Hank Wilmont also shot to death in the  
  
house."  
  
A strange look came over Adam "And Ophelia?"  
  
Joe looked at the computer screen and shivered a bit. "Here's the  
  
description our agent got from his police contact." Joe turned the screen  
  
toward Adam.  
  
Adam read the cold account then said "My God, what those  
  
animals did to her."  
  
Joe sat there stareing at his friend "I just wonder what she's  
  
going to do. It says they found a box dug up in the basement and think  
  
this was a treasure hunt."  
  
"If she's gotten her sword out, then there's going to be hell to  
  
pay." Adam said.  
  
"I hope she stops with her attackers." Dawson added.  
  
Adam shook his head "Yea, so do I."  
  
Joe then pointed to the other text he had brought up. "I've also  
  
been able to access Mrs. Jordan's last entry. It says she saw Hank  
  
leading a stranger out of the barn this morning and she was going to take  
  
a pie over and check him out."  
  
"God," Adam said with a strange smile "She was a great cook,  
  
but I could never figure out how she destroyed those pies like that."  
  
Joe laughed "Sometimes I thought she did it on purpose just to  
  
test the metal of those around her."  
  
"Yea," Adam said "but who do you trust more, the person who  
  
politly chokes it down or the person who is honest enough to gag and  
  
spit it out?"  
  
The two men forced smiles at the memory of their unique old  
  
friend. Then Joe said "I wonder who the man in the barn was and if he  
  
did this."  
  
"I don't know, Joe, but I bet if we find her, we'll find him."   
  
"And if he did do this?" Dawson asked scanning over the report  
  
again.  
  
"Then we'll find parts of him."  
  
"If she's on the war path, do you think we should let Duncan  
  
know?" Joe asked reading Ophelia's history.  
  
"No" Adam said. "We don't know what she's going to do,  
  
besides, this is still just watcher business we don't know if she's going to  
  
start hunting again. Is there anything they want us to do?"  
  
"Yes, our man in the area can't get near the Jordan place, they all  
  
know him and know that he has no business there. They want me to  
  
come in to play a nephew and get into see her records. Perhaps I can  
  
find some notes or pictures to help figure out who this guy was."  
  
Adam looked confused "Why you?"  
  
Joe laughed "She set me up one time as her nephew. They tell  
  
me she has pictures of me in her house to play the part. Turns out she  
  
had no real kin and wanted us to have an in to her place if something  
  
ever happend to her."  
  
"Need a lift to the airport?" Adam offered.  
  
Joe reached down and lifted his carry on bag to the desk "That's  
  
the other reason I called you over. And not just the airport..."  
  
to be continued.....  
  



	18. Part 18

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout  
  
Part 18  
  
Agent Ropper stood outside the Wilmont farm house watching  
  
them preparing to bring the bodies out. What a horrendous sight, they  
  
were shocked to find the bodies on the ground floor, but were totally  
  
unprepared for the blood bath upstairs. Forensics were examining the  
  
house now, looking for clues to the killers and theories as to where the  
  
body was from the bedroom. It was obvious that the two bodies they  
  
had found were not involved with what ever had happened up stairs. It  
  
was a murder scene if there ever was one, but there was no body.   
  
Agents roamed the fields and buildings around the farm house looking  
  
for clues.  
  
Anita looked at the bag in her hands. The sword in it appeared  
  
to be Civil War vintage. She guessed the missing girl may have tried  
  
unsuccessfully to defend herself with it. Still, it was a sword and she  
  
just kept happening on them.  
  
Then there was the box. Some of the deputies thought it was for  
  
a treasure. They were speculating that the girl was tortured until she  
  
revealed its were abouts. Anita greatly doubted that theory. The  
  
impressions in the cloth were all too clear, it too was a sword.  
  
One of the officers came out of the house. "Ma'am," he said  
  
"We've done the preliminary checks on the prints like you suggested.   
  
We can match at least three of the sets from the diner to the scene  
  
upstairs."  
  
Ropper looked at the hand written report he handed her "And  
  
Keller?"  
  
"We've found his prints on the dresser drawer in the back room  
  
and possibly on the bathroom door." The Trooper reported.  
  
"So he was in there, but we can't prove he was involved in the  
  
holocaust?"  
  
"No ma'ma, in fact the evidence tends to point to him coming in  
  
afterward. We've found a boot print in the blood on the floor. It's pretty  
  
sharp so it looks like it was made after the blood had a chance to set for  
  
awhile."  
  
"Do you think anyone could have survived what ever happened  
  
up there?" Agent Ropper asked, not really expecting an answer.  
  
"I don't know ma'am."  
  
As the two spoke, a Coroner's assistant wheeled a gurney out of  
  
the house with Mrs. Jordon on it. Ropper took one last look at the  
  
passing body then noticed a detail she hadn't seen before.  
  
"Hold it, what's that?" she asked the attendant and pointed to a  
  
tattoo on the dead woman's wrist.  
  
The trooper and the coroner's assistant both looked at the body.   
  
"I didn't see that before." the assistant said looking at the small round  
  
marking.  
  
"I have." Anita replied.  
  
"Where?" one of the men asked.  
  
"A colleague." Ropper said as she thought back to her little ride  
  
with Peter Gattlin. She had noticed a small round tattoo on his wrist as  
  
he was driving but she didn't think anything of it at the time. Now she  
  
found another connection.  
  
"Well, Agent Ropper," the Trooper asked "do you think there is a  
  
connection between these killings and the ones you are investigating?"  
  
"Without a doubt." she replied. "Now if we can just figured out  
  
what happened to the body."  
  
"I know it's weird Ma'am." the Trooper remarked "but when I  
  
was up in that bedroom is just seemed like she had gotten up and  
  
walked away after they were done with her."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well if you look at it, the trail of blood out of the bedroom to the  
  
bath room. The cut hair in the back bedroom, the drawer of clothes,  
  
everything. If it wasn't for all that blood and gore in the bedroom I'd say  
  
that Mandy Wilmont just got in her pickup and drove away."  
  
Anita considered the young man's point of view then asked "Do  
  
we have that A.P.B. on the truck yet?"  
  
"Absolutely. The order is to observe but not approach."  
  
While the Trooper responded to her questions Agent Ropper  
  
continued to consider what Gattlin had told her about a cult of immortals  
  
and the evidence before her. Everything just fit too nicely. Gattlin's tall  
  
tale of people believing they were immortal unless someone cut their  
  
head off just fit these details too perfectly.  
  
So what would the scenario be, Keller pisses off these biker  
  
dudes who come here after him. They kill everybody in the house and  
  
torture the young woman to death. Only she's immortal, so she gets up  
  
showers grabs her 'good' sword from the basement then goes off after the  
  
bikers to set things right.  
  
"I'll bet," Ropper said under her breath "if we find the biker gang  
  
we'll find everyone we're looking for."  
  
"You think Keller's with them?"  
  
"No, I think Keller's after them." Anita said "And if we don't find  
  
them first we're going to have more bodies to clean up."  
  
"Your afraid they're going to get Keller before he can answer  
  
your questions?"  
  
Anita laughed "No, I'm afraid he's going to get them."  
  
Dropping the bag she was holding next to the old wooden box,  
  
Anita headed away from the house. She had had enough of swords from  
  
this case. They were no longer the novelty they were a few months ago.  
  
Now it was time to visit the Jordan home.  
  
to be continued....


	19. Part 19

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 19  
  
Jeremy drove the pickup west, supposedly following the bikers.   
  
Mandy sat in the passenger seat staring at the passing country side. She  
  
wasn't chasing, she was running from what had happened to her.   
  
Neither said a word for over two hours finally Mandy broke the silence.  
  
"How old are you?" she asked.  
  
"What?" Jeremy responded not expecting such an off the wall  
  
question.  
  
"Have you been around a long time?" she persisted.  
  
"I'm think I'm 27." Jeremy finally said. "Since I was abandoned  
  
as a child, I don't know my birthday."  
  
"How long have you been one of us?"  
  
"I was first killed during the Gulf War." Jeremy answered  
  
Mandy smiled "I knew you were a soldier, but I didn't know  
  
which war."  
  
"Since you brought the subject up," Jeremy said "What's your  
  
story?"  
  
Mandy slumped back in her seat and looked out the windshield  
  
"I was born a long time ago in scandinavia. It was the time of the  
  
Vikings, and everyone was always at war.  
  
"My village was a fishing village, but everyone lived by the  
  
sword." Mandy brought her sword forward. "My father made this  
  
during one of the long winters. He planned to give it to his son, which  
  
he never had. My mother was barren and could not have children, so  
  
they prayed to Odan for a son to fill their empty home. On the day my  
  
father finished the sword he took it down to the ocean to dip it in the  
  
water and thank Odan. My father gave thanks for the gift of skill that  
  
had allowed him to craft such a fine weapon.   
  
"After completing the ritual, my father was kneeling in the sand  
  
finishing his prayer of thanks when he heard a baby's cry. Hidden  
  
behind a pile of drift wood on the beach, he found a baby, foul and  
  
covered with mud and sand. He was about to leave the child where he  
  
had found it, for fear it was a child of demons when my mother saw and  
  
came to investigate. She immediately rescued the baby and took it in as  
  
her own. She claimed I was a gift from Odan, the child they had prayed  
  
for. But my father had prayed for a son, so he let my mother to raise me  
  
as her daughter."  
  
Mandy stretched and thought about her story for a second then  
  
continued. "One day a strange man rode into the village, the men went  
  
out to meet him and determine if he was friend or foe....."  
  
The stranger rode a tall brown horse and was dressed in layers of  
  
cloth and fur. His face was buried behind a long tangled beard and wild  
  
hair that hung past his shoulders. Six large men from the village  
  
approached him with drawn swords. One stood out, he was slightly  
  
taller and larger then the rest, he was also more neatly groomed and  
  
appeared to take better care of himself. He stepped forward.  
  
"What is your business here friend?"  
  
The stranger dropped off his horse and approached the men.   
  
This was always the most crucial time, facing the men for the first time.   
  
The wrong word could mean a fight and spilled blood. The right words  
  
could bring him food, friends and a warm place to sleep for a few nights.  
  
He faced the leader eye to eye but did not make any moves  
  
toward the long sword that was strapped across his back. "I'm a weary  
  
traveler," he said "and seek your fine village's hospitality for a few  
  
nights."  
  
The lead villager looked into the stranger's clear blue eyes both  
  
men seemed to come to an unspoken understanding. "I'm Lars  
  
Henderson" he said "you are welcome to our hospitality."  
  
The two men grasped forearms and the stranger said "I'm called  
  
Erik the Immortal."  
  
Lars looked at the stranger "The Immortal?"  
  
Erik laughed "It is a name my father hung on me when I was a  
  
boy. From the trouble I got into, he was sure I should have killed myself  
  
before my eighth summer."  
  
Lars smiled "Come my friend, you will stay with my family  
  
tonight."  
  
With Lars's acceptance of the stranger, the others put away their  
  
swords and approached with their own greetings. One gathered the  
  
reins of the horse and lead it toward a small stable.  
  
Erik had been at Lars's table for over an hour enjoying a quick  
  
mid-day meal and the company of his host and wife when a young girl  
  
entered the home. Lars paid the child little attention but the wife was  
  
quick to welcome her daughter home and offer her some bread and  
  
smoked fish.  
  
Erik looked at the girl and said to his host "You have a fine  
  
daughter."  
  
"Thank you." Lars replied unenthusiastically "She does her  
  
chores well and is learning to cook."  
  
"My friend," Erik said as he stood up "We must talk"  
  
Lars sensed the serious tone of the stranger's voice and followed  
  
him outside.  
  
"Your child is not your own." Erik stated as soon as they were a  
  
few paces away from the house.  
  
Lars started to get suspicious "How do you know this?"  
  
"I know she was a foundling." he said.  
  
"My woman can't carry children, we lost several early on then no  
  
more came." Lars admitted "We asked Odan for the gift of a son to carry  
  
on the family line, but it was not to be."  
  
"This child is Odan's gift." Erik said "You found her abandoned  
  
where no one could have left her."  
  
"How do you know this?" Lars asked.  
  
"I know." Erik replied "Heed my word, the child is a gift from  
  
Odan, and will live for a thousand generations if she learns the way of  
  
the sword."  
  
Lars looked at the skinny little girl struggling to carry a half   
  
full bucket of water into the house. "I don't understand."  
  
"It is not for you to understand the ways of Odan." Erik said  
  
"Train her well and as long a no one takes her head she will carry your  
  
family with her into times yet to come." Erik then headed toward the  
  
barn for his horse. "Thank you for the hospitality, but it is not good to  
  
reveal even as much as I have." Lars watched the large stranger fetch his  
  
horse then ride on through the village, continuing his journey.   
  
Lars walked into the house and took his daughter by the hand.  
  
"Where are you going with her?" his wife asked suspiciously since he  
  
had never shown the girl any more then a passing interest.  
  
"She is done with chores." he said "It is time for her to learn the  
  
ways of the sword."  
  
The woman sat down in shock as she watched her husband lead  
  
the child out into the woods. As the two walked, she could see Lars  
  
showing the girl the sword he carried and allowing her to touch it for the  
  
first time..........  
  
Mandy and Jeremy both saw it at the same time, a motorcycle  
  
parked at small gas station. He pulled around the side of the station and  
  
waited for the rider to come out. Through their rearview mirror they  
  
watched a dirty biker dressed in patched denim and greasy black leather  
  
come out the small store with a fresh pack of cigarettes. He climbed on  
  
the bike and continued down the road.  
  
Jeremy pulled out behind him and followed at a safe distance.  
  
to be continued........  
  



	20. Part 20

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout  
  
Part 20  
  
Adam drove the rental car up in front of the Jordan house. Just  
  
up the street, the remains of the morning's investigation remained, a  
  
police cruiser was still parked in the driver and the house was sealed  
  
with yellow police tape. A plain brown sedan sat parked in the Jordan  
  
driveway in front of Adam's and Joe's car.  
  
"I don't know how you talked me into this." Adam said as he  
  
parked the rental.  
  
"It's easy, old man, it is hard to find a rental with hand controls  
  
in hick-vills like this, and you know it. Now lets get in there, get what  
  
we came for and get out before anybody gets too suspicious." Joe said as  
  
he grabbed his cane from the back seat.  
  
Before Joe and Adam could make it to the front door, a short  
  
black woman and a state trooper came out to meet them. The woman  
  
was no more than 5 foot tall and very well dressed in a business suit  
  
with slacks. "May I help you gentlemen?"  
  
Joe approached them "I'm Joe Dawson," he said "I'm here  
  
because I heard something happened to my Aunt Ethal." He then  
  
indicated Adam, "and this is a friend of mine, Adam Pierson."  
  
Adam had stopped and leaned on the hood of the car as soon as  
  
the two had come out, he held up the keys to the car. "the chauffeur" he  
  
said.  
  
Agent Ropper and the Trooper introduced themselves and invited  
  
the two men into the house.  
  
Before the two men were all the way in, Agent Ropper spoke up  
  
"May I ask who exactly told you of the shooting?"  
  
Joe and Adam looked around Mrs. Jordan's living room a bit  
  
before answering. "You know," Joe responded "I really can't tell you, one  
  
of my bartenders took the message and didn't get the name of the caller."  
  
"So you just hop on a plane and rush right out here on the say-so  
  
of an anonymous caller?" the Trooper asked.  
  
"Of course not." Joe said "I called the Sheriff's department first   
  
to confirm. Since this is such a close knit community, I just assumed it  
  
was a friend or neighbor who called. They all know that Aunt Ethal and  
  
I were quite close."  
  
As they spoke, Adam had wondered over to the computer sitting  
  
by the front window. "Nice system." He said to no one specific.  
  
"Perhaps you can help us with that." Agent Ropper said. "Our  
  
guess is that she keeps a journal on it, but we can't break the password."   
  
Anita turned on the computer bringing up a simple looking program  
  
with a round symbol in the background and a title banner that said  
  
"Daily Journal, Ethal Jordan."  
  
Anita hadn't let on, but she did recognize the symbol from Mrs.  
  
Jordan's and Peter Gattlin's wrists. She also thought she saw the edges  
  
of it on Dawson's wrist but didn't want to say anything yet.  
  
Joe sat down at the computer "I don't know for sure, but I can try  
  
some passwords she may have used." he lied. He made several attempts  
  
at the password then finally typed in a special password that made the  
  
program wipe its files. There was no obvious sign something was  
  
wrong until the system locked up.  
  
"What's happening?" the Trooper asked.  
  
Anita pushed Joe out of the way and looked at the screen, as she  
  
watched, the computer rebooted itself and came up at the C: prompt.   
  
She typed in a few DOS commands and found the hard drive totally  
  
wiped. "What did you do to this?" she turned toward Dawson as he  
  
hauled himself up on his cane.  
  
"It must have had a fail safe for the number of bad password  
  
attempts." Joe took a few steps away from Agent Ropper. "Now if you  
  
don't mind, I've got work to start to take care of Aunt Ethal."  
  
Anita had had enough, "Just a minute Mr. Dawson, there's still  
  
something I need you to explain." she said approaching him.  
  
"And what might that be Agent Ropper?"  
  
Anita grabbed Joe's left arm and pulled up the sleeve revealing  
  
his watcher tattoo. The symbol was identical to what had been on the  
  
screen. At the same time Anita grabbed Dawson, she pulled a large  
  
semi-automatic hand gun and pointed at Adam.  
  
"Agent Ropper!" the Trooper said pulling his own weapon but  
  
not knowing where to point it "What is the meaning of this?"  
  
"I'd like to know that too." Joe put in.  
  
"This tattoo," Anita said pointing to Joe's arm "is the same as  
  
what was on that computer, and is just like one I saw on Mrs. Jordan  
  
this morning."  
  
"It's meaningless" Joe said, it's like a family crest.  
  
"Really" Anita cocked her gun and turned to Adam "May we see  
  
your arm, sir?"  
  
Adam held up his arm revealing his tattoo.   
  
"This is ridiculous" Joe said "He's a cousin."  
  
Anita laughed "Yea right." She then turned to the Trooper,  
  
"Would you mind searching our tall friend over there?"  
  
The Trooper started to pat down Adam and immediately came up  
  
with a sword hidden under his trench coat. Anita did the same with Joe  
  
but found nothing. Then on a lark, took his cane and pulled on the top.   
  
A long thin sword revealed itself.  
  
Anita was grinning from ear to ear "Gentlemen, why don't we go  
  
into the parlor and have a seat, it seems we have a lot of talking to do."  
  
To be continued.....


	21. Part 21

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"  
**  
Part 21  
  
Jeremy and Mandy followed the biker until he turned off the  
  
main road and headed down an overgrown dirt road into thick woods.   
  
They took careful note of the location then continued by. What they  
  
needed to do was best done at night and that was a few hours away.   
  
Several miles west they found an old diner and stopped in for coffee and  
  
to wait for darkness.  
  
In the late evening, the two immortals found the dirt road they  
  
had watched the biker take. They parked the truck in the weeds and  
  
prepared to go in. Mandy had produced some black face paint and  
  
proceeded to paint thick sharp designs down both cheeks and across her  
  
face. At first Jeremy thought it was camouflage but soon realized it was  
  
ritual war paint.  
  
When she was done she turned her icy stare towards him. The  
  
war paint together with her chopped hair and the look in her eyes sent a  
  
chill down Jeremy's back.   
  
"Are you ready to get bloody, soldier?" she whispered.  
  
Jeremy dropped the chamber of his revolver open and checked  
  
his rounds. "I'm never 'ready' to kill," he said "but some things have to  
  
be done." He then took her black face paint and smeared it across his  
  
forehead and face to darken his complexion.  
  
"If your going to survive the game." Mandy said "You'd better  
  
get used to killing."  
  
Jeremy looked at the woman suddenly he could see the years in  
  
her eyes. "That's the problem I'm too used to killing." he then gestured  
  
towards the woods. "And these people aren't part of the Game."  
  
"They're not part of our game." Mandy agreed, "But they are  
  
players in their own right and when they destroyed my family and raped  
  
me they brought me into their game."  
  
Jeremy opened his door "They brought both of us in, now its time  
  
to play."  
  
The two walked the dirt road into the woods, keeping to either  
  
side and staying close to the brush. They were both just half a step away  
  
from total concealment in the undergrowth. Jeremy carried his shot gun  
  
with his .357 tucked securely in the front of his belt. Mandy carried only  
  
her father's sword, her two knives and a length of rope she wouldn't  
  
explain to Jeremy.  
  
A couple of hundred yards down the road they heard loud music  
  
and drunken laughter. The noise came from a glow in the woods no  
  
more then 50 yards off the dirt road. Jeremy and Mandy faded quietly  
  
into the woods and approached the gathering without saying a word or  
  
making a sound.  
  
As they approached the camp they split up and headed to  
  
opposite sides. On the outer edge of the clearing, Jeremy came upon a  
  
drunken biker trying to act as a look out. With little effort Jeremy was  
  
able to sneak up behind him and apply a silent choke hold until he  
  
passed out.  
  
Mandy also found a look out, but he wasn't as lucky. He didn't  
  
see her until she stood up in front of him and buried her knife deep into  
  
his gut then up into his chest. She clamped her hand across his mouth  
  
muffling his scream until the knife found his heart and ended his life.   
  
Kneeling over the body, Mandy shook the blood from her hand  
  
then wiped it on the man's greasy shirt. Any minute now, Jeremy would  
  
start the attack and she had to be in place to get the most out of it. She  
  
worked her way close to the camp fire and center of the gathering. Let  
  
him take care of the distraction, she would take care of the animals, she  
  
could handle that.  
  
The first one she recognized was the creature they called Rita.   
  
Her bandaged hand and loud, foul mouth made her stand out in the  
  
crowd. Mandy checked the rope she carried, she was prepared for Rita  
  
and that animal Lynx.  
  
Mandy had gotten in place a few feet away from the group.   
  
Crouching in the bushes she watched the flames dance across the faces  
  
of her prey and waited. The sound of a shot gun blast and an exploding  
  
bike caused pandemonium in the drunken group.   
  
Nobody saw where she came from, she was just suddenly in the  
  
middle of the group. Her sword flashed in the firelight and people  
  
started screaming and falling to the ground. In the commotion, Jeremy  
  
stepped from the shadows and started pumping rounds into the bikes  
  
and other equipment. The clearing was soon ablaze with burning bikes.  
  
People started breaking from the group, staggering or running for  
  
their weapons. Jeremy quickly cut them down then headed toward   
  
Mandy. Before he could make it to the girl, he stopped and looked  
  
around, everyone was down. Mandy stood in a mess of bodies many  
  
still writhing in pain from their wounds. She was splattered in blood  
  
with her face a mess from where she had wiped her bloody hands across  
  
it distorting her war paint.  
  
Mandy looked around "Where is she?"  
  
"Who?" Jeremy asked as he continued to take in the carnage.  
  
"That bitch Rita." Mandy had started rolling bodies over with her  
  
feet looking for the woman. She found her hiding behind some bikes,  
  
Jeremy could see the shock and terror in the woman's eyes.  
  
"Why her?" Jeremy asked as Mandy dragged the woman toward  
  
a large tree.  
  
"Her and her boyfriend, Lynx, were the ones who did most of  
  
what you saw in my bedroom." Mandy hissed.  
  
Suddenly a flood of recognition brought Rita out of her shock.   
  
"It...its not possible." she stammered "I slit your throat, you should be  
  
dead."  
  
"You and your boyfriend had a good old time with me didn't  
  
you." Mandy whispered as she tied Rita's hands behind her back. "By  
  
the way, where is he?"  
  
"This isn't possible" Rita repeated "Your dead, all that glorious  
  
blood..."  
  
Mandy threw the rope over a low branch and pulled Rita up.   
  
The woman screamed as her arms twisted up over her head then lifted  
  
her off the ground. Rita was soon suspended so that her toes barely  
  
touched the ground.  
  
"Where is he?" Mandy asked again after securing the rope.  
  
"Fuck you, bitch." Rita snarled and spat in her tormentor's face.  
  
Mandy produced her eight inch knife, still covered in blood from  
  
the fight, and ran the tip up the side of the woman's face opening a long  
  
thin cut. "We can do this easy or hard." Mandy said "It's up to you."  
  
Rita cried out from the new pain. "The son of a bitch went to  
  
Seattle."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He said he had to meet Lance."  
  
"Who's Lance?"  
  
Rita turned toward Jeremy "A friend of Lynx's, your man over  
  
there killed. Stupid shit thinks he's still alive."  
  
Mandy looked at Jeremy questioningly.  
  
"He's one of us."   
  
Mandy smiled at Rita "You thought we were dead too, didn't  
  
you?"  
  
"I never meant to hurt anybody," Rita pleaded "it just got carried  
  
away."  
  
"Let's finish this." Jeremy said "Its over with these people."  
  
A strange look came over Mandy's face and she cut away Rita's  
  
shirt exposing her abdomen. "I'm just getting started. If you can't handle  
  
it, it's okay." she said to Jeremy "I'll meet you back at the truck." With  
  
that she opened a cut across Rita's mid section.  
  
Jeremy turned and walked out of the clearing listening to Rita's  
  
screams. He could hear Mandy talking to Rita over her screams as he  
  
walked away "Don't waste too much of your energy, we've got a long  
  
night ahead of us."  
  
Jeremy hadn't made it back to the dirt road before a new round of  
  
even more intense screams rose from the clearing. He couldn't stand it  
  
anymore and ran back to the clearing pulling the .357. A single round  
  
ended the woman's misery.  
  
Mandy turned to Jeremy furious. She grabbed her sword and  
  
charged him. "How dare you interfere!" she yelled at him. "You don't  
  
know what those two did to me."  
  
"It doesn't matter." Jeremy said trying to maintain his revulsion  
  
"nobody deserves what you were doing to her."  
  
Mandy raised her sword "Your not the judge of my tormentors, I  
  
am."  
  
Jeremy leveled the magnum at the woman. "Its over, lets get out  
  
of here."  
  
The woman settled down and lowered her sword. "Will you go  
  
with me to Seattle?"  
  
Jeremy uncocked his gun "I was headed there anyway."  
  
She looked at Rita's body hanging from the tree. "I'll cut her  
  
down." On her way to Rita, she slid her sword into a couple of the bikers  
  
who had started coming around.  
  
Looking at the carnage about him and the monster carrying her  
  
father's sword, Jeremy shook his head. "My God." he thought to himself  
  
"What have I become?"  
  
to be continued.........  
  



	22. Part 22

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
by OldScout

Part 22  
  
While Jeremy and Mandy sat in the old diner waiting for night  
  
fall, Joe Dawson and Adam Pierson were trying not to explain  
  
themselves to Agent Ropper. Anita paced the old house's sitting room  
  
examining Adam's sword. "The first time I saw that tattoo was on a  
  
man who claimed he was in a cult who thought they were immortal."  
  
Anita said to her guests. "He said that they believe the only way to kill  
  
someone in the cult is to cut off their head." She turned and looked at  
  
Joe and Adam. "Do you guys think your immortal too? Did Mrs.  
  
Jordan think she was?"  
  
As she asked the questions Anita watched the two men very  
  
carefully. Did they show signs of recognition, of fear or just  
  
cluelessness? She saw something in the older one, Dawson, but not  
  
quite what she expected. The best way she could describe his look was  
  
one of irony. They knew what was going on but didn't seem to be what  
  
she was accusing them of. She knew they were her best link yet, but  
  
were just another piece in a much larger puzzle.  
  
"Agent Ropper, I have no idea what your talking about." Joe  
  
replied. "I've never heard of a cult like you describe."  
  
"What about you." Anita said to Adam.  
  
"A cult of immortals?" Adam repeated. "Never heard of such a  
  
thing."  
  
Ropper didn't say anything else, just turned and walked out of  
  
the room, taking Adam's sword with her.  
  
As soon as Anita stepped out Joe turned to Adam. "What the  
  
hell did you bring the sword for?"  
  
Adam shrugged "Old habits. Besides what's with the cane?"  
  
"Bunch of old Army buddies gave it to me a long time ago. I  
  
always forget the damn sword is there."  
  
Agent Ropper came back opening a can of Diet Coke. "You  
  
know," she said "Since I started investigating these beheadings, I've  
  
gotten to know swords quite well." she held up Adam's sword for all to  
  
see. "And my new background tells me that this is a very expensive  
  
weapon and it is not something you carry around on a lark"  
  
"Listen, Agent Ropper." Joe finally said. "I don't know what you  
  
want from us but we'll be around for a couple of days while I get Aunt  
  
Ethal's affairs in order. Your more then welcome to stop by any time  
  
and chat."  
  
"What I want." Anita said "Is to figure out why a bunch of sane  
  
respectable people are running around chopping each other's heads off.   
  
In my whole life I had never seen a real sword outside of a museum until  
  
six months ago. Now every time I turn around everybody and his cousin  
  
is carrying one." Anita turned to the state trooper "Lets go."  
  
"What about them?" the young man asked.  
  
"They said they're going be here a few days, besides, I've got  
  
their home addresses." then she stopped for a second and smiled "I'm  
  
impounding the computer and all related items. Anything that may look  
  
like it has anything to do with this cult of their's. Lets get your people  
  
out here to catalogue it."  
  
Four hours later the office area of the front room was stripped.   
  
Every book, computer disk and tape, and every other piece of  
  
information had been boxed, inventoried and carted away by the state  
  
police and the FBI. Joe and Adam sat in the empty room looking at each  
  
other.  
  
"Do you think they'll find anything?" Adam asked his friend.  
  
"If they do," Joe replied "Agent Ropper's people will think its  
  
just the ramblings of a crazy old woman."  
  
"Agent Ropper won't, she's looking for the truth were ever it may  
  
take her." Adam looked out the window at the house across the street.   
  
He could barely make out the yellow police tape flapping in the evening  
  
breeze. "Do you have any idea what is going on here?"  
  
"You mean who attacked Mandy and who that guy Hank found  
  
in the barn was?"  
  
Adam nodded "That about sums it up."  
  
"Haven't got a clue."  
  
Joe pulled himself up and leaned on the cane Agent Ropper had  
  
returned. He turned to Adam and thumbed at the sword leaning against  
  
the wall. "Next time we're going be talking to the cops, please leave that  
  
thing in the car."  
  
Adam shrugged and smiled "I'll try to remember."  
  
At her hotel, Anita was trying to coordinate surveillance of Joe  
  
Dawson and Adam Pierson when they got back to Seattle. "Look," she  
  
said into her cellular "I want someone who we can depend on to just  
  
watch and do some simple background checking. I don't want Pierson  
  
and Dawson approached or interrogated." she listened for a second then  
  
said "No this isn't their kind of case, just assign someone from the local  
  
office, the last thing I need is Spooky asking them if they've recently  
  
experienced any missing time, or if they've ever seen any strange lights  
  
in the sky or something." she listened again then said "Fine, thank you."  
  
Then turned off the phone and threw at the bed.  
  
Turning toward her mirror, Anita thought aloud "God, the last  
  
thing I need is those amateurs confusing the issue."  
  
to be continued...... 


	23. Part 23

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"  
** by Oldscout

Part 23  
  
The wind blew through Jeremy's jacket giving him the feeling of  
  
flying. The roar of the old Harley was music to his ears. He knew  
  
Mandy was still with him, he could feel her presence but also kept an  
  
eye on her in the mirrors. She rode a smaller and newer bike. At first  
  
she had been hesitant to take one of her own, she said it had been  
  
decades since she had ridden. Jeremy couldn't help but feel proud for  
  
her as she took to it so quickly.  
  
They had carried Mandy's bike in the back of the truck for most  
  
of the night until they had spotted a good place to dump the truck.   
  
Hopefully by the time anybody found it, they would both be well  
  
established with new names.  
  
A sign passed telling how many hundred of miles it was to  
  
Seattle. "If your ever in trouble and need someone you can trust," the  
  
voice said "look up my friend, Duncan MacLeod, in Seattle."  
  
The long thruway stretching in front of Jeremy faded and was  
  
replaced by the long curving causeway leading from Saudi Arabia to  
  
Bahrain. Jeremy rode in an Army Humvee following a long line  
  
vehicles traveling to the island nation.  
  
After a cursory stop at customs, they took him to the Navel  
  
station and dropped him at the front gate. As the guard checked his  
  
papers, Jeremy noticed one very obvious addition to the ships in the  
  
harbor. Parked close to the main gates was a large cruise ship, the  
  
Cunard Princess.  
  
"Where did that come from?" Jeremy asked as the guard handed  
  
his papers back.  
  
"They brought that in for R & R, Sir." the guard said.  
  
Jeremy just shook his head and said "What a novel idea." then  
  
headed for HQ. After he had worked his way past his unit who had all  
  
thought him dead, he approached Commander Parker's office and felt the  
  
rush of another immortal.  
  
The Commander met him at the door before he had a chance to  
  
knock. "Welcome back Lieutenant." Parker said as he ushered Jeremy  
  
into his office. "I see you weren't as lucky as everyone thinks you were."  
  
"No, Sir." Jeremy replied. "My rebreather failed."  
  
"Have a seat, Jeremy," the Commander said indicating one of the  
  
chairs in front of the desk. "From your reaction, I assume you know  
  
what you are?"  
  
"Yes, Sir, a Saudi sensed me when I woke up." Jeremy replied  
  
"He told me who and what we are and about the Game."  
  
"Your lucky, sometimes people are immortal for a long time  
  
before they find out who they are." Parker said.  
  
"Sir, may I ask you something?"   
  
"Anything," Parker replied "I guess its on me to try to help you  
  
deal with your new life."  
  
Jeremy leaned forward "Sir, did you know what I was, before..."  
  
Commander Parker finished the question "before you died? Yes  
  
I did, you see, as you get older and more experienced you can sense the  
  
seed of immortality in a person. The problem is what to do about it, you  
  
can't just approach somebody and say 'Excuse me, do you know what  
  
would happen if I stuck this knife in your heart?'"  
  
"So you do nothing?" Jeremy asked.  
  
"No, if your an honorable man, you can keep an eye on the pre-  
  
immortal and be there for him when the time comes." Parker responded.  
  
Jeremy nodded accepting his superior's reasoning, then thought  
  
for a second "One more thing, Sir, for now."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can you tell me how old you really are?"  
  
Commander Parker laughed and got up from his desk "That's a  
  
very hard question to answer, let me show you something." He walked  
  
over to a wall motioning Jeremy to follow. The two men stood in front  
  
of a small framed picture. It looked like an illustration from an medieval  
  
bible. "I've shown you my collection before, Jeremy. I collect these old  
  
texts, or what remains of them. But I never told you how specific I am  
  
in my collecting."   
  
Parker took the picture off the wall and handed it to Jeremy.   
  
"Look at it very carefully, it is over 700 years old, hand drawn in a  
  
monastery in Spain." He got a far away look in his eyes "The complete  
  
text took two years to complete."  
  
Jeremy looked up from the illustration "You drew this?"  
  
"It's all I collect." The Commander replied "I lived in that  
  
monastery for over a hundred years, we lived such private lives nobody  
  
noticed anything unusual. Best I can guess, is that during my first years  
  
there, I fell from a stool in the library. I thought I had just knocked  
  
myself out." He hung the picture back on the wall. "I had no idea what I  
  
was until crusaders stopped on their way to the Holy land. Among them  
  
was one of us who told me what I was and convinced me to go with  
  
them."  
  
"You were a crusader?"  
  
Parker started to laugh and changed the subject. "You know, I  
  
pick up a lot of my own work pretty cheap."  
  
"Why is that, weren't you any good?" Jeremy said with a smile.  
  
"On the contrary, I was so good my work stands out. The only  
  
problem is it spans over a hundred years. All of the scholars are  
  
convinced the later works are all forgeries, copies of the earlier master  
  
pieces."  
  
"So you can pick them up at bargain prices."  
  
"You know it drives those people nuts. If any of them bothered  
  
to believe what their expertise was telling them, they would have a true  
  
mystery on their hands."   
  
Commander Parker turned to the Lieutenant "Son, let me give  
  
you this one word of advise, don't ever allow yourself to live for the  
  
game. It'll end up that being an immortal is all you know how to do and  
  
you'll stop living this fantastic life you've been given. There have been  
  
so many of us who have moved through the ages and never enjoyed  
  
themselves, never enjoyed the pleasures of being alive, never simply  
  
lived."  
  
"I'll try to remember that." Jeremy said "Thank you, Sir." Jeremy  
  
got up to leave.  
  
"One more thing." Parker said with a very serious tone to his  
  
voice "If your ever in trouble..."  
  
There was a surge in the quickening then Jeremy felt nothing.   
  
He looked behind him and saw that Mandy was gone. He had just  
  
passed an exit so he pulled over and looked off the bridge at the exit  
  
ramp. He saw Mandy driving quickly off the ramp and on to a local  
  
road. Ahead of her was another motorcycle, a 'rice burner'.  
  
to be continued......... 


	24. Part 24

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

By OldScout

Part 24  
  
Agent Ropper stood at the edge of the clearing. Around her the  
  
woods were full of people. The detectives from the State Police were  
  
carefully searching every inch of the site. Around them squads from  
  
search and rescue units combed the woods with tracking dogs looking  
  
for some sign of the killers. Forensics carefully checked and cataloged  
  
each body before they allowed anything to be moved.  
  
The lead detective came up and stood silently next to Anita for  
  
several minutes then spoke. "I think your right." he finally said "The  
  
hand wound on the woman is a couple of days old and does match the  
  
knife in the bar. "  
  
Anita turned and looked up at the man "And the rest?"  
  
"Well, it was a motorcycle gang that attacked the Wilmont farm,  
  
but it will be a day or so before we can properly run these prints.  
  
"What about the witness?"  
  
"He's worse off then the guy from the diner." the detective said  
  
"All he keeps saying is 'Links will get them in Seattle.'"  
  
"He said Seattle?"  
  
"He's been mumbling a lot of stuff, but I'm sure I heard Seattle."  
  
Anita turned to go.  
  
"Agent Ropper, where are you going?"  
  
Antia turned to the detective "First to talk to some men from  
  
Seattle, then I think I'll pay a visit to that fine city."  
  
When it came down to it, Joe and Adam didn't have much to do  
  
at the Jordan house. They really didn't know the lady that well. Adam  
  
actually took the lead in taking care of business, he had known Ethal  
  
better then Joe.  
  
They had just finished arranging with locals to sell and distribute  
  
the estate as described in Mrs. Jordan's will when a car pulled into the  
  
driveway. It was Agent Ropper, and she appeared to be on a mission.  
  
"I wonder if they've broken the codes." Adam thought aloud.  
  
Joe looked out the window and replied "We're about to find out."   
  
Anita let herself into the house and was greeted by the two men.   
  
"I have some news for you." she said as her greeting.  
  
As usual Adam was hanging back, leaning against a wall across  
  
the room from Anita. "And what may that be?"  
  
Anita turned to Joe, still trying pretend he really was Mrs.  
  
Jordan's nephew. "We think we found your Aunt's killers."  
  
"So quickly?" Joe said surprised "Good work, how did you track  
  
them down?"  
  
A strange look came over Agent Ropper "Well actually, someone  
  
else got to them first. They were ambushed last night in their campsite."  
  
The look in Ropper's eyes put Dawson on the defensive. "Whoa,  
  
your not thinking we had anything to do with this, are you?"  
  
"No, Mr. Dawson, but I do think you know who did and may be  
  
able to tell me something about them."  
  
"What could we possibly tell you."  
  
Anita pointed out the window at the Wilmont house. "Mrs.  
  
Jordan died over there. So did Henry Wilmont and apparently Mandy  
  
Wilmont, but we can't find her body. Now you know some of the  
  
troopers think she got up and just walked away." she forced a smile "But  
  
we all know nobody could survive what ever happened in that bed room,  
  
or could they?"  
  
Joe turned to Adam and forced a laugh "She's talking about her  
  
cult of immortals again."  
  
Adam had a slightly sick look in his eyes "Agent Ropper, could  
  
you tell me how those people died, what kind of weapons were used?"  
  
Anita approached Adam "Some where shot, mostly with a shot  
  
gun." she said "But many were stabbed." She turned and looked at the  
  
handle of Adam's sword sticking out from under his overcoat. "Stabbed,  
  
like with a sword. We figure that Keller must have followed them after  
  
discovering what they did at the Wilmont's. A bunch of drunks against  
  
a man like Jeremy Keller wouldn't have much of a chance."  
  
"What kind of man is this Keller?" Adam asked.  
  
"He's an ex-Navy Seal."  
  
"There's something I have to tell you, Agent Ropper." Adam  
  
said, "But you must promise me it stays totally off the record."  
  
"Adam," Joe spoke up, "What are you doing."  
  
"Mr. Pierson, I'm only looking for the truth."  
  
Adam turned to Joe first "Joe, we must warn her, she has no idea  
  
what she's up against. Lets at least give her a chance." He then turned  
  
to Anita "Your right about the cult of immortals. They have been around  
  
for a very long time and can be very dangerous. We are part of an  
  
organization that watches their activity. We must remain anonymous  
  
because if they ever found out about us we would be in great danger.   
  
Since their laws require they kill each other, life becomes very cheap to  
  
them. Our hope is to try to stop them from recruiting new people, or  
  
maybe get people out of the cult. In order to do that, we sometimes have  
  
to deal with them."  
  
Anita turned and looked at the sword again. "Hence the swords."  
  
"That's right," Adam replied "Since they think they're immortal,  
  
guns don't frighten them. In order to get their respect, we must be able  
  
to face them head on. The only way to do that and get anywhere is to do  
  
it with sword in hand."  
  
"So Gattlin was telling the truth." Anita said and paced around  
  
the room as she thought about the implications.  
  
Joe leaned toward his friend and whispered. "Where did you  
  
come up with this line of crap?"  
  
"I read it in a journal once." Adam replied "When she kept  
  
referring to the Cult of Immortals it reminded me of the journal."  
  
"So who's Gattlin?" Joe asked Ropper.  
  
"He's an agent investigating the Cult." Anita said without  
  
elaborating.  
  
"Now," Anita said "what was it you wanted to warn me about?"  
  
"It's about Mandy Wilmont." Adam relied. "I don't know about  
  
Keller, but I do know about Mandy. She is part of this Cult and if she  
  
were to catch up with the people who did this to her family, it wouldn't  
  
be a pretty sight."  
  
"Your telling me that Mandy Wilmont may have been involved  
  
with these killings last night?"  
  
"Tell me, were any of the bodies more then just killed?" Adam  
  
said trying to be delicate.  
  
"Just what are you trying to say?"  
  
Joe spoke up "Was anybody tortured?"  
  
A sickened look came across Agent Ropper's face "It looked like  
  
a woman had been hung by her hands from a tree then ...." Anita trailed  
  
off thinking about what was done to the poor girl.  
  
"It's not Keller's MO is it?" Joe said.  
  
"No."  
  
"But it is Mandy's." Adam said "Once she was pulled into the  
  
cult, the killing changed her. She gets a kind of blood lust that is hard to  
  
stop. If you catch up with her, don't put ANYTHING past her or it could  
  
mean your life."  
  
Ropper looked at the two men. "You think Mandy Wilmont, the  
  
farmer from across the street, killed all of those people last night."  
  
"From what you've told us about Keller, and what we know  
  
about Wilmont, it sounds like a team effort." Joe replied.  
  
"If this Keller IS running with Mandy Wilmont." Adam added  
  
"He had better watch his back. As soon as she no longer needs him  
  
she'll go after him too."  
  
"You guys are insane." Ropper said. "Mandy Wilmont is a well  
  
know respected citizen. Everybody I've talked to says she's one of the  
  
nicest people they've ever met."  
  
"She may be." Joe said in total agreement. "But they've never  
  
seen her pushed over the edge like this. She can become blood thirsty  
  
and very dangerous."  
  
After considering what the two men had to say, Anita looked at  
  
her watch. "I've got a plane to catch, but rest assured this conversation  
  
is not over." she then left the house and drove away.  
  
Joe looked at his own watch "You know, old friend, it looks like  
  
we have a plane to catch too."  
  
to be continued............... 


	25. Part 25

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout

Part 25  
  
Richie Ryan had been on the road for almost 15 hours straight,  
  
and he was getting tired. The buzz of the approaching immortal at first  
  
went unnoticed until he was next to the bikes. The pair were riding  
  
Harleys and at least one was an immortal. It didn't take long to figure  
  
out which when the one closest to him suddenly swerved toward him  
  
forcing him off the road and down an off ramp.  
  
"I don't need this." Richie thought to himself. "I'm tired, hungry  
  
and some faceless immortal is picking a fight." He gunned his bike  
  
down the ramp then sped off down the local road. Perhaps the immortal  
  
wasn't that interested in a fight. Sometimes one's instincts really knew  
  
what was best, and this time his instincts told Richie it was better to try  
  
to avoid this fight. He just wasn't up to it, and he knew it.  
  
The exit wasn't into a commercialized shopping area like Richie  
  
had hoped, instead he found himself in an abandoned industrial park.   
  
"Great, this is also not what I needed." Richie thought as he drove on  
  
behind the empty buildings.  
  
The sound of an approaching bike and the faint buzz of an  
  
immortal told Richie the other was following this through. Parking his  
  
bike in the middle of an overgrown parking lot Richie removed his  
  
helmet and waited. He didn't draw his sword but kept his hand on it,  
  
perhaps he could talk his way out of this.  
  
The other parked his bike and climbed off. He pulled his helmet  
  
off and drew a long dark sword. It was the same simple style as Richie's  
  
but looked older and rougher. It wasn't until the other removed her  
  
jacket that Richie realized he faced a woman.  
  
She looked a bit shorter then him and had short hacked hair. As  
  
she approached she held her sword horizontally over her head and  
  
stretched. Who was this person, she was acting like they were about to  
  
face off in some friendly sporting event.  
  
Richie drew his sword and held it to his side. "I'm Richard  
  
Ryan," he said "and we don't have to do this."  
  
The woman held her sword out to her side and stretched both  
  
arms wide then slowly brought them back together, gripping the weapon  
  
in both hands. "I'm Ophelia, and we don't have a choice." She then  
  
brought the sword up for a classic two handed strike and stepped  
  
forward.  
  
Richie blocked the attack then had to move fast to block a  
  
second. She had used the momentum of the strike and the block to  
  
swing around and thrust again. He then counter attacked pushing the  
  
woman hard to see how she defended. Her moves were fast and  
  
experienced, Richie could tell she was by far the more experienced  
  
fighter, but he sensed something else, she was out of practice, and out of  
  
shape. If he hadn't have been so tired, he wouldn't have been concerned  
  
about losing.  
  
"By the way." Richie baited as soon as they broke for a breath  
  
"Who cuts your hair, it looks like it was done with a pocket knife?"  
  
"It was." She hissed back at him "But I took care of the stylists."  
  
With that, she pushed her attack doing what Richie was hoping  
  
for, becoming careless. He broke an opening and cut a long gash in her  
  
left side. The pain drove her back and she lowered her sword as she  
  
checked her wound.  
  
"Like I said before," Richie repeated "we don't have to do this."  
  
The woman screamed and attacked again. This time both  
  
swords missed their mark but Richie landed a solid punch across her  
  
jaw. She stepped back then tripped and fell, landing on her back.   
  
Richie brought his sword around getting ready to give her one more  
  
chance to live when he saw her right hand come out from behind her  
  
back. He had no chance to react and found a dagger sticking from the  
  
right side of his chest.  
  
Richie's strength drained from his body. His sword quickly  
  
became too heavy and clanked to pavement. He followed it down as his  
  
knees gave out and lowered him to ground. He watched the woman  
  
struggle to her feet and approach him. As she approached, she ran her  
  
sword through his gut dropping him into position for the final blow.  
  
Doubled over in pain at the feet of the stranger Richie was ready  
  
to die when he heard a motorcycle and felt the presence of another  
  
immortal.  
  
"Mandy!" the other yelled as he jumped off his bike.  
  
"Stay out of this, Jeremy." the woman yelled back "You can't  
  
interfere."  
  
"I sure as bloody hell can." Jeremy returned.  
  
Through blurring vision, Richie could see the new comer  
  
pointing a large silver pistol at the woman. "It's against the rules." the  
  
woman countered.  
  
"What rules?" the man said. "You know I don't play the game,  
  
we've been over that. This is just murder"  
  
"But he's one of them." Richie felt the woman's sword tap him on  
  
the head as she spoke.  
  
"No he isn't" the man replied "He's one of US and that isn't  
  
reason enough to kill anybody. Judge a man by who he is, not what he  
  
is. It's the only thing that can set you apart from those animals that  
  
attacked you."  
  
The conversation was fading in the distance Richie could hear  
  
the woman scream in frustration. He felt something under him that  
  
rolled him over onto his back.  
  
Mandy used her foot to roll the dieing man onto his back  
  
exposing the dagger still sticking from his chest. She grabbed it but  
  
found it lodged in the bone. When she put her foot on his chest for  
  
leverage she heard him gasp in pain then felt him die as she twisted and  
  
forced the knife from the wound. Somehow the sound of the cracking  
  
ribs were quite satisfying.  
  
Walking by Jeremy, Mandy was wiping the blood from her  
  
dagger with a piece of cloth she had cut from her victims shirt. As she  
  
passed she said "I am getting very tired of you pointing that damned  
  
gun at me."  
  
to be continued.......... 


	26. Part 26

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout

Part 26  
  
Peter Gattlin positioned his van in the parking garage  
  
overlooking Duncan MacLeod's home and business. The white van  
  
belonged to the local offices and was filled with all of the latest illegal  
  
surveillance equipment. MacLeod was someone he'd have to be careful  
  
of, the man believed in the game, and took it very seriously. But was he  
  
the right mark?   
  
There was no connection between any of Jeremy Keller's known  
  
friends and Seattle. The Watcher files, however, cross referenced  
  
Commander Parker and Duncan MacLeod. It was a long shot when he  
  
had tried to match Tim Parker a.k.a. Tim Parcon with all immortals  
  
known to live in Seattle. MacLeod was the only hit and thus the only  
  
lead.  
  
The man seemed to live a very dull life, he either spent his day  
  
overseeing the operation of the gym, working out, or teaching classes.   
  
Peter wasn't going to watch MacLeod continuously until Keller showed,  
  
it was sufficient to get the bugs in place then hang back even further. If  
  
Jeremy showed, he would try to contact him first, perhaps set up a  
  
meeting. That would be the best time to get to him, while he waited for  
  
MacLeod. In the mean time, however, he would also try the direct  
  
approach.  
  
Joe Dawson and Adam Pierson sat crowded into the coach  
  
section of the airplane. When one traveled on short notice any seat  
  
would have to do. Just as they expected, though, they saw Agent Ropper  
  
board the same plane. It wasn't obvious if she noticed them since her  
  
seat was in the front and they were practically in the last row.  
  
"What do you think she really knows?" Joe asked his friend.  
  
Adam looked up at the agent who was now looking back at  
  
them. "She knows she's on the right track." Adam responded "She just  
  
doesn't have any idea where that track is headed." Adam leaned toward  
  
Dawson as if confiding a great secrete. "That woman is a nonbeliever.   
  
She doesn't even believe her own eyes until she can rationalize all that  
  
she has seen."  
  
"But if she ever believes the truth," Joe said "she could be in  
  
danger. There are some immortals that would kill her to stop her from  
  
reporting them to the government."  
  
"She knows about watchers as well, there are some of us who  
  
would also do what ever they had to to keep the watchers from becoming  
  
common knowledge." Adam added.  
  
"That gives us two choices." Joe said looking back at the woman.   
  
"We either tell her the truth and convince her that it must not come out,  
  
or we convince her we're all just a bunch of kooks that have no real  
  
significance once her Jeremy Keller is out of the picture."  
  
Adam thought about Joe's options then responded "There's the  
  
other choice, I assume your trying to avoid."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Well like we just agreed, either one of us has motive enough to  
  
take her out of the picture."  
  
"Don't even think it, Methos." Joe whispered "She's in touch with  
  
somebody and we'd have more FEDs poking around here then you could  
  
believe if something happened to her."  
  
Adam frowned "Joe, I'm hurt that you could think me capable of  
  
seriously considering such an act."  
  
Joe looked at his old friend and said very sarcasticly "Right."  
  
Duncan MacLeod was working out alone in his Dojo before  
  
opening for the day when he felt another immortal. He expected to see  
  
Richie since he had called the other day saying he was coming back, but  
  
this wasn't. It was an immortal he had never met, the man looked in his  
  
late twenties to early thirties and was impeccably dressed, his long  
  
pressed trench coat covered a thousand dollar suit.  
  
Not wanting to invite a fight in his home, Duncan did not go for  
  
his sword, he just grabbed a towel and wiped his face as he approached  
  
the stranger. "I am Duncan MacLeod." he said "How can I help you?"  
  
The man walked forward, keeping his coat tied. "My name is  
  
Peter Gattlin." he said then showed MacLeod his ID. "I work for the  
  
CIA and am looking for a man who may be contacting you."  
  
"What's an immortal doing working for the government."   
  
"Why not?" Gattlin replied "A jobs a job, and it pays well with  
  
lots of free travel."  
  
"Who are you looking for?" Duncan asked suspiciously.  
  
"A new immortal named Jeremy Keller." Gattlin answered "He  
  
worked for us before he became an immortal. I'm just trying to bring  
  
him in before he disappears."  
  
"What's so important about him, and what makes you think he'll  
  
try to contact me?"   
  
Gattlin walked around the room looking at the equipment. "I  
  
believe you have a mutual friend, a Tim Parcon. Commander Parker, as  
  
he is now known, gave me your name as a possible contact."  
  
Duncan looked at the man, he was basically telling the same  
  
story Tim had, but Tim said he had not given his name to Gattlin. How  
  
did this man zero in on him so quickly. Of course with his government  
  
contacts he may have been able to do some cross referencing, but if the  
  
government kept those kind of records, that would mean they tracked  
  
immortals. That seemed doubtful, the only ones who could have made  
  
the link that easily were the watchers.  
  
"Sorry," Duncan finally said "I haven't heard from Tim Parcon in  
  
over fifty years, and nobody has tried to contact me." He then looked at  
  
the equipment around him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to finish  
  
up before it's time to open for business."  
  
Gattlin shrugged accepting the brush off. "If you think of  
  
anything or Mr. Keller does contact your, perhaps you can give me a  
  
call." he said and dropped a business card on a workout bench "It really  
  
would be in everybody's best interest."  
  
Duncan watched the man leave then looked at the card he had  
  
dropped. All it had on it was the man's name and a 1-888 phone  
  
number.  
  
to be continued......... 


	27. Part 27

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY**  
  
**"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"  
**

**by OldScout**

  
  
Part 27  
  
The pain of re-awakening surged through Richie's body. He  
  
gasped for air then sat up clutching the now phantom wound in his  
  
abdomen. The next thing he felt was the presence of another immortal.  
  
Richie struggled to his feet and looked around. He was in an  
  
abandoned garage or something. The closed, pull down vehicle doors  
  
and the debris on the floor told him that much. As his eyes adjusted to  
  
the light, he saw his motorcycle parked near by with his sword in its  
  
place.  
  
The buzz from the other immortal grew stronger then a door into  
  
the garage opened. The man who had stopped the woman from killing  
  
him came in. He wore a brown T-shirt, jeans and black boots.  
  
"Good, your awake." the man said and approached holding out  
  
his hand. "I'm Jeremy Keller, I must apologize for the behavior of my  
  
companion, she's had a rough couple of days."  
  
Richie pretend he was still too weak to move much and waited  
  
for Keller to approach. As soon as he was within reach, Richie pulled  
  
his sword and held it to the other immortal's neck. "I don't know who  
  
you people are," he growled "but I don't like being ambushed and killed,  
  
it makes for a very bad day."  
  
Suddenly Richie was laying on the floor with the wind knocked  
  
out of him, Keller had punched him in the stomach so fast Richie never  
  
saw it coming. The man caught Richie's sword, placed it back on the  
  
bike, then held out a hand to help him back up. "Sorry about that," he  
  
said as he pulled Richie to his feet "it was just a reflex."  
  
Still trying to catch his breath Richie stood up and said, "Oh,  
  
man, I've never seen anybody move that fast before." Richie leaned on  
  
his bike "What's with you two, why'd she attack me?"  
  
Keller got a strange look on his face. "Well, I guess you were in  
  
the wrong place at the wrong time. You see, she was attacked by a  
  
group of bikers a few days ago, they killed her family and tortured her."   
  
Jeremy paced around a bit. "I guess when she saw and felt you on the  
  
highway something just snapped."  
  
"Whoa, wait a minute." Richie said holding up his hands "is she  
  
accusing me of being one of her attackers?"  
  
Jeremy shook his head "No, I guess the bike and all made you a  
  
symbol of them, or something. Besides, if she really thought you were  
  
one of them, I wouldn't have been able to stop her," then he got a very  
  
sick look on his face "and she wouldn't have gone for your head so  
  
quickly."  
  
The buzz of another immortal signaled Mandy's arrival. She  
  
looked at Richie then turned to Jeremy. "He's awake now and can take  
  
care of himself, lets get going."  
  
"Wait a minute." Jeremy said to the woman then turned to Richie  
  
"Where are you headed? Perhaps you'd like to ride with us for a while?"  
  
Richie looked at the woman Keller had called Mandy and who  
  
had introduced herself as Ophelia. "I don't know if that would be wise."  
  
"Don't worry, son." Mandy replied "You don't have to worry  
  
about me, there's just one left that I'm after, and your not him."  
  
"You didn't seem to think so earlier."  
  
"I've promised Jeremy, No Hunting and I'll stick to it."  
  
"That just fills me with confidence."  
  
"Lets go, Kid" Mandy said getting impatient "and get a new  
  
shirt, that one's a rag."  
  
"This is a new.." Richie started then looked down at himself, his  
  
front was covered with blood and his shirt was ripped from the wounds  
  
and had a large piece cut from the side. "Oh, damn," he said loudly "look  
  
at this mess."  
  
Richie rolled his bike out to join the other two. He still didn't  
  
trust them, but figured it was easier to keep an eye on them this way.   
  
"How far are you guys headed?"   
  
"Seattle." Jeremy replied "We have it on good authority that the  
  
man we're looking for is meeting someone there." he got on his bike and  
  
pulled on his helmet "Besides, I was told a friend of a friend lives there  
  
and he may be able to help me get out of the country."  
  
Richie sighed, he didn't like the sound of this "Why do you need  
  
to get out of the country?"  
  
It was obvious that Jeremy didn't want to involve this stranger  
  
with his problems. "Lets just say that amongst other things, the people  
  
who attacked Mandy were after me. I thought I had convinced them to  
  
leave me alone, but they didn't take the hint."  
  
"And now there's one left." Richie said putting all the pieces  
  
together.  
  
"And the friend he's meeting is an immortal." Mandy said then  
  
fired up her bike.  
  
The roar of the Harely effectively ended the conversation. Richie  
  
pulled on his helmet and followed the strangers back to the highway.  
  
to be continued.................. 


	28. Part 28

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"  
**

by OldScout

Part 28  
  
Duncan MacLeod walked down the steps into Joe Dawson's  
  
empty bar. The bright mid afternoon sun cast long shadows across the  
  
empty tables. Joe came walking out of the back room after hearing  
  
someone come in.  
  
"Duncan, glad you could drop by." Joe drew a beer and placed it  
  
in front of his friend.  
  
"What's up Joe?" Duncan asked as he sat down and pulled the  
  
drink forward  
  
"Have you ever heard of an immortal named Mandy Wilmont?"  
  
After taking a few sips of beer, Duncan replied "Don't recall her."  
  
Then Joe leaned on the bar some "How about by her given name,  
  
Ophelia."  
  
It took a second for Mac to respond. "You don't mean the  
  
Ophelia I met in Colorado."  
  
"The one and the same."  
  
"Where has she been?"  
  
"Living on a farm, minding her own business." Joe responded.  
  
Duncan looked at Dawson "Something happened?"  
  
"You could say that, a gang of bikers attacked and killed her  
  
grandson and her watcher?" Joe said then got an upset look on his face.  
  
"Her watcher?"  
  
"Yea, Ethal Jordan was her neighbor and was visiting when they  
  
attacked."  
  
Duncan hung his head shaking it. "I'm sorry to hear that. What  
  
about Ophelia?"  
  
Joe had walked around the bar and sat down next to his friend.   
  
"They attacked her, leaving her for dead."  
  
Mac looked Joe in the eyes "So Ophelia's on the hunt?"  
  
"Yep, and there's already been hell to pay. She caught up with  
  
most of the gang the other night. From what I hear, it was not a pretty  
  
sight."  
  
"You said most?"  
  
"We believe there's one left, and she's coming here looking for  
  
him."  
  
Duncan sat back and stared at the mirror behind the bar. It had  
  
been just after the Civil war when he came across Ophelia in the foot  
  
hills....  
  
The foot hills of the Rockies in the fall were a beautiful sight,   
  
the colors of the trees made the land an amazing sight. Duncan rode his  
  
brown horse across the valley following the wisp of smoke he'd seen  
  
since morning. He scratched the three day beard around his goatee and  
  
hoped the smoke was from a small trading post he'd heard of. He had  
  
dropped his razor in a river a few days back and found it very unpleasant  
  
shaving with his knife.  
  
The immortal opened his rawhide jacket then adjusted his wide  
  
brimmed hat higher on his head. The rising sun warmed the valley. It  
  
should be close, the trail he was on was well used and followed the lazy  
  
creek that ran through the valley. When the path widened revealing the  
  
cabin in the distance, Duncan felt something he wasn't expecting,  
  
another immortal. He loosened the katana in its scabbard next to the  
  
Winchester and looked for the other.  
  
Duncan nudged his horse forward toward a blind bend in the  
  
creek. As he approached, a woman stepped out from the brush. She  
  
was average height with short cropped hair, wore tan canvas pants and a  
  
dark blue cotton shirt. The clothes were clean and smooth, still showing  
  
fold marks. She carried a long straight sword and had a knife sheath  
  
strapped to her back.  
  
"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod ." Duncan said in  
  
the thick Scottish accent he often slipped into when facing another  
  
immortal.  
  
"I am Ophelia." the woman said and motioned to the cabin with  
  
her sword. "Do you know this place?"  
  
"Never been here before." Duncan replied and rubbed his beard  
  
"I'd heard there was a trading post here'bouts."  
  
"There's nothing here for you Scot, you best pass by." the woman  
  
then disappeared back behind the brush.  
  
"Wait a minute." Duncan pushed his horse forward to follow.  
  
Around the bend was a small clearing. The woman was already  
  
to her own gray horse and securing her sword. She pulled on her brown  
  
leather jacket and climbed up to the saddle.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Ophelia turned her spirited horse toward Duncan "Just settling  
  
an old debt." She then pulled the animal around and it leapt into the  
  
thick surrounding woods.  
  
Something didn't seem right. Duncan sat for a minute looking at  
  
the cabin then at the clearing. Laying by the water was something he  
  
hadn't noticed, a pile of clothes. He jumped down and examined the  
  
garments, it looked like pants, a shirt and other things, all were covered  
  
in blood. He then realized the ground and rocks by the creek were  
  
covered with blood. It looked like she must have changed and washed  
  
here. What had happened to her? Duncan looked up at the cabin,  
  
something was very wrong.  
  
On approach, the small cabin appeared normal. A wisp of  
  
smoke continued to rise from the chimney, a curtain fluttered out an  
  
open window and several horses paced around a carrel out back.   
  
Everything else was quiet, dead quiet.   
  
Duncan jumped from his horse and drew his Colt. He climbed  
  
the two steps to the porch and approached the front door. A familiar  
  
smell caught his attention, it was the smell of a battle field. Not of a  
  
modern battle field though, it was the smell of an old killing field. One  
  
where the combatants hacked at each other with swords and axes, back  
  
when the killing was up close and very personal. It was the kind of  
  
stench that stayed with you for days.  
  
The door was standing open slightly as Duncan reached forward  
  
to push it open, he felt his feet sticking to the wooden porch. A thin pool  
  
of blood had seeped out from under the door. Duncan pushed the door  
  
open and leveled his revolver as he did.  
  
The sight nearly made him loose the beans and hardtack he'd  
  
eaten for breakfast. Three bodies hung from the ceiling, he thought they  
  
were human and male, but wasn't sure. Blood and gore were  
  
everywhere, the closest thing he had ever seen to this was a slaughter  
  
house at a stock yard.  
  
Duncan pulled the door shut and backed away. He holstered his  
  
pistol and stepped off the porch. Could that woman be responsible for  
  
this slaughter, how could anybody do that to another creature, let alone a  
  
human?   
  
It didn't take long for Duncan to find some cans of lamp oil in a  
  
shed out back. Soon, the cabin was aflame and Duncan sat on his horse  
  
watching the fire. He didn't have the stomach to go back in and tend to  
  
the bodies, the cabin would have to do as their funeral pyre..........  
  
Duncan turned toward his friend "I looked for her for three  
  
months, but never found any trace. It was if she had dropped of the face  
  
of the earth."  
  
"Not quite," Joe said "She changed her name, got married,  
  
bought a farm and started adopting kids."  
  
"You mean she's been living on a farm since the late 1800's?"  
  
Joe nodded "On and off, she'd leave and wait long enough for  
  
people to believe she was a cousin or somebody, then comeback and  
  
start another family."  
  
"And now she's coming here, looking to settle another debt?"  
  
"It certainly looks like it," Joe agreed then added "and this time,  
  
she has help."  
  
to be continued................ 


	29. Part 29

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout

Part 29  
  
Duncan MacLeod's phone rang, he looked at it sitting on the corner of  
  
his desk. It rang again. Duncan reached for it and hesitated, the ring was the  
  
same as always, but somehow he knew there was something happening. It rang  
  
a third time. He picked it up and listened for a moment then said "MacLeod."  
  
"Mac?" a familiar voice said "Hey it's Richie, how ya' doin'?"  
  
Mac smiled, it was just the kid. "I'm fine, Richie. How about you?"  
  
"I'm ok." Richie replied, then said "Mac, I met somebody on the road  
  
who says you and he have a mutual friend."  
  
MacLeod sighed. "I think I know, a new one of us. Tell me his name."  
  
A puzzled silence game from the other end for a few seconds then  
  
Richie replied "Keller."  
  
"Are you with Ophelia too?"  
  
"How'd you know?" Riche replied dumb-founded "Mac, do you know  
  
her."  
  
"I met her once. Richie, watch your back, and don't bring them here."  
  
"You didn't have to tell me either." Richie stated. "Where then?"  
  
Duncan thought for a second then said "Do you remember were I ah,  
  
'trained' Felicia?."  
  
"You mean the old..."  
  
Duncan cut him off "Yes, that's the place."  
  
"Not holy ground?"  
  
"The place I mentioned, Richie. I have my reasons."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Tonight, at nine."   
  
"Ok, I'll see you then."  
  
Duncan sensed Richie start to hang up and said quickly "Oh, Richie."  
  
"Yea?"  
  
"Don't be early."  
  
"Ok, Mac." Richie said slightly confused then disconnected.  
  
Duncan listened to the click of Richie hanging up then waited for a  
  
moment before hearing a faint second click.  
  
Richie hung up the pay phone and looked around the small service  
  
station they had pulled into. Their bikes were parked across the lot, but only  
  
two remained. "Damn." he said under his breath and turned toward the store  
  
front. Keller was just walking out drinking deeply from a bottle of Lipton's Ice  
  
Tea. Richie called to him "Where'd Mandy go?"  
  
Keller looked around and shrugged. They both looked down the road   
  
and across the street where they saw a crowed, run down biker bar. "Shit!" was  
  
the dual reply as both men raced toward their bikes.  
  
The bar was surrounded by motorcycles of all types, nice new Harleys,  
  
to beat nearly unrecognizable choppers. There weren't, however, any of the  
  
foreign racing bikes that Richie was partial to. Luckily, Richie was driving a  
  
tall motor cross bike with knobby tires and knuckle guards. It stood out, but  
  
didn't have nearly the stigma amongst these people as the expensive "rice  
  
rockets". The bike Mandy drove was parked at the outer edge of the flock, and  
  
the two men could feel her presence as soon as they pulled up.  
  
Keller drew little attention in his camouflaged field jacket and black  
  
leather gloves, however, Richie's dirty, but still bright, blue and white leather  
  
motorcross jacket immediately turned heads. Jeremy ignored the stares and  
  
made conversation as they walked in "So did you get a hold of MacLeod?"  
  
"Yea, he's going to meet us tonight at nine."  
  
"Great, all we have to do is stay in one piece until then."  
  
Richie turned to Keller "What's with you and Mandy? You seem to  
  
have a very distant relationship. Why did we follow her over here?"  
  
Keller looked around "I'm afraid that if I left her before we find Lynx,  
  
more people would die. I don't think she's too discriminating about what she  
  
does to anybody who stands in her way."  
  
"And you feel responsible for putting her on this path?"  
  
Jeremy was scanning the crowd for their companion. "Something like  
  
that."  
  
They both spotted her at the same time, she was just sitting down with  
  
a group of particularly nasty looking patrons.  
  
The biggest and greasiest of the group eyed Mandy up and down.   
  
"What can I do you for, little lady?" Some of the others at the table smiled at  
  
the lame twist of words.   
  
Mandy looked at the mountain of flesh next to her. "I'm looking for an  
  
acquaintance of mine. Drives a bike with a cat painted on the tank, his name is  
  
Lynx."  
  
The man seemed to give the matter some thought then said "You know,  
  
I may be able to help you out. Why don't we step out back and see what kind  
  
of arrangements we can come up with?"  
  
Mandy smiled sweetly "Do you know the man or not?"  
  
"Tall guy, blond hair, short fuse. Yea, I know him." He then leaned  
  
closer to Mandy "Now, what do you say we go out back and you show me just  
  
how much you want to find him?"  
  
It was all Mandy could do to not turn from the rancid, stale smell of the  
  
man's breath. She leaned in close to him and ran her hand up the inside of his  
  
thigh. A very large smile crossed his face until he felt something cold against  
  
his skin.  
  
"Do you know what the femoral artery is?"   
  
He looked down to see a razor sharp dagger had just cut through his  
  
pants without him feeling it. He shook is head "no", not knowing what the  
  
woman's target was.  
  
"The femoral artery is the main artery feeding your legs. If I cut it,  
  
you'll bleed to death in five minutes. And I do know how to cut so that even a  
  
turnacate wouldn't help." Mandy whispered.  
  
"What do you want?" he stammered, seeing the coldness in her eyes.  
  
As Mandy was talking to her new friend, someone new came into the  
  
bar, he and Jeremy recognized each other at the same time. Jeremy  
  
immediately dove toward Richie knocking him to the floor. Lynx pulled a  
  
semi-automatic pistol squeezing off two rounds towards where Jeremy had  
  
been. The bullets hit two people standing at the bar. Jeremy rolled across the  
  
floor and came up with his .357 getting a shot off as Lynx fled out the door.  
  
Mandy saw her prey fleeing out of the bar and leaped after him. She  
  
knocked people aside and one waitress to the floor, spilling beer everywhere.   
  
The door was too far away so Mandy headed straight toward the nearest  
  
window. She leaped to a chair, its table, then through the large, plate glass  
  
window. Splinters of glass exploded in all directions as Mandy burst through,  
  
landing on Lynx.  
  
The big biker wasn't expecting someone to come through the window at  
  
him, but he was able to stand his ground. He ducked and turned into the  
  
person like a football player pushing off a tackle. He pushed her away as he  
  
staggered back from her momentum.  
  
Mandy hit the ground and rolled to her feet coming up with her knife  
  
held out in front of her. The glass had done it's damage, her face streamed  
  
with blood from cuts on it and her head. A long gash across the top of her head  
  
lifted part of her scalp, blood flowed freely from the wound and down the side  
  
of her face.  
  
Lynx would not have recognized Mandy if he had seen her in the bar,  
  
but this way, with wild short hair, face covered with blood and open wounds,  
  
and wild fire in her eyes, is how he saw her just before Rita slit her throat.  
  
"Hi, Lynx, remember me?" she hissed, spitting blood between her teeth.  
  
His eyes went wide, "No, it can't be you!"  
  
"I told you it wasn't over." Mandy brought her knife forward and lunged  
  
at him.  
  
Lynx jumped back and wildly fired at Mandy, missing her once and  
  
hitting her once in the side of the stomach. More shots sounded from behind  
  
her as Jeremy made it out of the bar. Lynx turned, dropped his gun and ran  
  
dead out for bike.   
  
Mandy wobbled after Lynx then threw her dagger just as he mounted  
  
his Harley. The knife missed its mark, but hit him low in the right shoulder,  
  
catching mostly in his jacket. Lynx gunned the gas and flew out of the parking  
  
lot, barely missing the cross traffic he hadn't watched for.  
  
Mandy's strength gave out and she dropped to her knees as the world  
  
around her started to spin in pain. She heard the sound of approaching bikes  
  
then felt a strong arm around her waist. Jeremy effortlessly lifted Mandy to the  
  
back of his bike.  
  
"My weapons." Mandy gasped.  
  
"Richie's got your stuff from the bike." Jeremy responded "The dagger  
  
stuck in Lynx."  
  
"I'm losing a lot of blood." Mandy said weakly. "You don't have a lot of  
  
time to hide me."  
  
to be continued..... 


	30. Part 30

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 30  
  
Agent Ropper sat at a table in a small conference room. Around  
  
her were spread all of her notes from the investigation so far.   
  
Everything seemed to point to the same impossible conclusion, she had  
  
to be missing something.  
  
The two agents assigned to her entered the room "Ma'am." one  
  
of them spoke up, "We have our report."  
  
Anita looked at the sharply dressed and impeccably groomed  
  
Agents. "The ambitions of youth." she thought to herself. Then said  
  
"What do you have?"  
  
One of them put a folder of photos on the table. "These are all of  
  
the people who visited Joe Dawson's bar in the off hours during the two  
  
days after his return. We were able to positively ID all but five of  
  
them."  
  
Agent Ropper sorted through the stack of faces. "Any of them  
  
fit the profile I gave you?"  
  
"Yes ma'am." the second agent said and placed a relatively thick  
  
folder in front of the senior agent. "Duncan MacLeod was one of the  
  
first to visit Dawson. He is a martial arts expert, and has been known  
  
to carry swords in public."  
  
Anita perked up at the mention of swords. "Really? Let me see  
  
that." She slid the folder closer and opened it up. "It says here he's  
  
been investigated for the deaths by beheading of several people." She  
  
sorted through the file, reading a history of near brushes with the law,  
  
and disappearances of known acquaintances. "Good work, did you find  
  
out anything about Pierson?"  
  
The two looked at each other "Nothing." They finally admitted.   
  
Then one continued "The only time we were able to establish contact  
  
with him was at Dawson's bar. When he left there, he disappeared into  
  
the night and we were never able to follow him more then a few  
  
blocks."  
  
"He knew you were following him."  
  
"Of course, they both did." One of the agents defended. "But  
  
Pierson never seemed aware, he would just wander into a crowd, or a  
  
store then we'd loose him."  
  
"You have nothing on him?" Anita asked in disbelief.  
  
They put a thin folder in front of her. In it were copies of his  
  
birth certificate, driver's license and a photo of the man taken at  
  
Dawson's bar.  
  
"The address on the license is an apartment that got torn down a  
  
month after the license was issued." one of them volunteered.  
  
Anita shook her head and closed Pierson's folder, then turned  
  
back to MacLeod. "I think I'll pay Mr. MacLeod a visit. See if he  
  
knows anything he's not going to tell me. You two continue to look  
  
into Pierson, nobody can be such a ghost. Try our files, maybe even the  
  
witness protection program, anything, at least tell me where he lives."  
  
When investigating in a city out of driving distance from D.C.,  
  
Agent Ropper always rented a car. Most of the time she would have  
  
been able to get a vehicle assigned by the local office, but those cars  
  
stood out like a sore thumb. Might as well have "FED" painted on the  
  
doors in bright yellow paint. This trip, she had opted for a dark green  
  
Ford Probe. Very impractical for transporting anybody, but was  
  
common enough not to stand out.  
  
Approaching MacLeod's address, Anita saw the parking ramp  
  
across the street from his building. She drove in to inspect it as a place  
  
for surveillance, but soon spotted a van she recognized. A white  
  
company van was already on the third level over looking MacLeod's  
  
dojo. Anita saw the vehicle from a distance and turned around before  
  
anybody in the van could have recognized her.  
  
It had to be Gattlin, he was the only other person on this case  
  
and he seemed to have the connections for sophisticated equipment like  
  
that. Perhaps it was time to turn the tables on him. He had been  
  
following her, now she would play his game and follow him.  
  
But first, she had to do what he expected, that is to interview  
  
MacLeod. If he could find him, he'd also expect her to. Anita returned  
  
to headquarters and exchanged her Probe for a company sedan. She  
  
then pulled up directly in front of the dojo, parking across two spaces.  
  
Anita walked through the rough gym, the few patrons hesitating  
  
in their workouts to watch her pass. A tall man with long, dark brown  
  
hair came out of the office and approached her.  
  
"I'm Duncan MacLeod." he said with a charming smile. "Can I  
  
help you?"  
  
Anita flashed her ID up at him "I'm Special Agent Anita  
  
Ropper, FBI. Mr. MacLeod, is there someplace we can talk?"  
  
He showed her into his office and shut the door. MacLeod took  
  
his seat behind his desk, and Anita sat across from him. "Now what  
  
can I do for you, Agent Ropper."  
  
Anita looked around the room and the weapons on the wall, she  
  
focused on a pair of katanas. "Mr. MacLeod, I'm investigating a string  
  
of murders, all seemingly unrelated, except for one thing."  
  
MacLeod had a puzzled look on his face. "And that is?"  
  
"How they were killed. With many crimes, a good rule of  
  
thumb to find most perpetrators, is 'Follow the money'. She looked at  
  
the swords again. But in this case I found that 'Follow the swords'  
  
seems to fit a lot better. You see, Mr. MacLeod, every murder I'm  
  
investigating involves swords, and in most cases the victim was  
  
beheaded."  
  
"I'm sorry, Agent Ropper, I don't see how that concerns me,  
  
unless your looking for some expert help. You know, I've had some  
  
experience with swords, both in the martial arts and as an antique  
  
dealer. I'd be more then willing to give you any help I can."  
  
Anita placed a picture of Joe Dawson on the desk. "Do you  
  
know this man?"  
  
Duncan glanced at it. "Yea, that's a friend of mine, Joe Dawson,  
  
why?"  
  
"He showed up to claim a body at the scene of a recent murder."  
  
"Still, Ms. Ropper." Duncan repeated. "What does that have to  
  
do with me?"  
  
Anita leaned forward "Like I said Mr. MacLeod, I'm following  
  
the swords. Mr. Dawson and his, ah, cousin," Anita glanced at her  
  
notes as if she couldn't remember the name "Adam Pierson, were both  
  
carrying swords."  
  
A hint of surprise crossed MacLeod's face but he hid it quickly.   
  
"Joe Dawson was carrying a sword?"  
  
"Sure was, and guess who one of his first visitors was as soon  
  
as he got back to Seattle."  
  
Duncan smiled "That's why your here? I visited a friend and  
  
suddenly I'm a murder suspect?"  
  
"From your file, Mr. MacLeod, I know it wouldn't be the first  
  
time. This time, however, I know who my killers are. I'm trying to find  
  
them, and understand them. I think there is something bigger then just  
  
a few sword fights. There have been a lot of sword fights and a lot of  
  
people losing their heads. I'm going to find out how they're all related,  
  
and your just another link in the chain."  
  
"So you think I'm involved with murders in cities I've never  
  
been to?"  
  
"I think you know why these people are killing each other."   
  
Anita fixed solidly on Duncan to watch his reaction as she asked her  
  
next question. "Tell me Mr. MacLeod, are you an Immortal?"  
  
The look that flashed across MacLeod's face was not what Anita  
  
really expected. It was a look of surprise, and of hearing a secret  
  
revealed. He laughed. "Agent Roper, I have no idea what your talking  
  
about?"  
  
"There's been some talk of these killings being related to people  
  
who think they are immortal and must go around killing each other."  
  
Recognition and maybe even a glint of fear showed in the man's  
  
eyes "I'm sorry I can't help you, I've never heard of such a thing."  
  
Agent Roper didn't press it any further, she knew what he  
  
wasn't telling her. "Thank you for your time, Mr. MacLeod. Perhaps if  
  
I do have questions about the swords, I'll take you up on your offer of  
  
help."  
  
"Any time." Duncan said then stood with the lady and watched  
  
her walk out of the dojo. "She's getting awfully close." he said to  
  
himself.  
  
to be continued..........  
  



	31. Part 31

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout  
  
Part 31  
  
The old truck garage was wedged into one of the more  
  
dilapidated parts of town. It had two large vehicle doors tall enough to  
  
admit a large semi tractor, and one standard size vehicle door. The truck  
  
doors had been rusted closed years ago, looking like two large blood-  
  
shot eyes on the old blue-gray building. The standard vehicle door was  
  
securely pad locked, but the man door next to it opened at the turn of the  
  
knob.  
  
The blond man stumbled into the building, still shaking from his  
  
encounter. He removed his leather coat and looked at the cut under his  
  
right arm, it was just a scratch, but the cut in the jacket was much worse.   
  
"Bitch." he muttered under his breath.  
  
"One of your whores turn on you again?" came a voice from the  
  
darkness.  
  
Lynx looked up startled "Jesuschrist," he cried, his eyes going  
  
wide at the familiar gruff voice, and the equally familiar face emerging  
  
from the back of the garage.  
  
"Not quite." Lance said as he approached Lynx. Lynx was  
  
slightly taller then Lance, but looked smaller. Lance's full beard, long  
  
hair, large gut and very wide shoulders made him appear a giant next to  
  
most men.  
  
Lynx stuttered "I...I thought you were dead."  
  
Lance laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "If you really thought  
  
that, you wouldn't be here."  
  
"You once said if something happened to you, short of  
  
beheading, to come here. You'd meet me here as soon as it was safe. I  
  
came, but after that explosion I really didn't think you'd actually be  
  
here."  
  
"Even after that puke, you and Rita attacked, killed two of your  
  
friends, and me, you didn't think it was possible to come back."  
  
Lynx shook his head in disbelief then rambled on. "How can I  
  
stop them, they followed me to the city. I barely got away with my life."  
  
A look of anger crossed Lance's face. "They followed you?   
  
Who's they?"  
  
"The Puke and his whore." Lynx's face went white at the thought  
  
of the incident at the bar. "When the rest get here, we'll show them a  
  
thing or two." Lynx said trying to smile.  
  
"You don't know, do you?" Lance's words were almost a  
  
whisper.  
  
Lynx looked at him.   
  
Lance continued "They're all dead. Somebody ambushed them in  
  
camp. It had to have been Him, but I didn't think he was the type to  
  
attack unless provoked." Lance then looked more closely at the younger  
  
man. "What whore? He was traveling alone."  
  
Lynx hesitated as the shock from the news set in. He dropped  
  
into a nearby chair. "We found my bike not too far down the road. Rita  
  
figured it was where he'd been headed. So we went after him."  
  
Lance sighed "You attacked him again, what a bunch of stupid  
  
sods."  
  
"But he wasn't there." Lynx put in. "So we took care of his  
  
family, did them good."  
  
"You killed his family?" Lance said in disbelief. "What the hell  
  
came over you?"  
  
"Rita said 'an eye for an eye'. She was the one who finished the  
  
whore off too."  
  
Lance threw up his hands "Rita, Rita, Rita. I told you she was  
  
trouble. Now they're all dead. They were our friends."  
  
Lynx's eyes were glazed over recounting all of the events. "At  
  
least we thought she finished her." he mumbled.  
  
"What, you killed someone else who came back?"  
  
"The whore Rita killed at the farm house attacked me down at  
  
Fat Fred's. I know it was her, God, I know it was her."  
  
Lance shook his head. "Now there's two I have to take care of.   
  
Don't you dare leave this place until I get back." Lance saw something  
  
familiar sticking out of the pocket of Lynx's jacket. "What's that?"  
  
Retrieving the dagger from his jacket, Lynx said "That bitch  
  
threw this at me when I was leaving, ruined my jacket."  
  
Lance took the dagger and examined it. "She threw this at you,  
  
your sure the woman did?"  
  
Even more color drained from Lynx as he recalled the woman's  
  
bloody face, just as he had left her in the farm house. "She threw it." he  
  
choked.  
  
Lance slammed it into a table "DAMN!" he threw his sword  
  
across the room. "I can't help you. Your on your own with this one."  
  
"What?" Lynx cried weakly.  
  
Lance walked across the room and started gathering his stuff.   
  
"Someday, when The Puke isn't traveling with her, I'll get him. I  
  
promise you that, but I can't protect you against her. May God help  
  
you."  
  
Lynx ran to the other man, grabbed him by the shoulders, and  
  
spun him around. "What are you talking about? You said we were a  
  
team."  
  
Lance back handed the younger man, knocking him to the  
  
ground. He stood looking down at the boy he had found not so many  
  
years ago. "I told you Rita would be your ruin, I know how a wrong  
  
woman can ruin a man." The big man's thoughts drifted back and in the  
  
blink of an eye it all came back to him like it was yesterday........  
  
The stable smelled of horses, and hay and other things. The  
  
large man walked through the motionless building admiring the fine  
  
horses standing in their stalls. His body was lean and solid like a  
  
warrior should be, he was clean shaven with shoulder length hair pulled  
  
back in a tail. The man's cloak was simple and dark, covering the Grand  
  
Crest on the jerkin beneath it. He tried to conceal his nobility, if a   
  
stable boy should spot him, he could not complete the rendezvous in the  
  
secrecy he needed.  
  
A sharp pulse raced through his temple, telling him that the one  
  
he was here to meet had arrived. He watched the storage shed in the  
  
back of the building and saw a figure disappear into it. He followed her  
  
in.  
  
Inside, the figure was illuminated by the moon through the slats  
  
of the shed. She dropped the hood of her cloak revealing her beautiful  
  
face and long, flowing, dark hair.  
  
She nodded toward him "Sir Knight, how can I serve you?"  
  
"Lady Ophelia," the man stated "your the only one I can trust. I  
  
wish you to carry a message for me to the queen."  
  
She looked at his rock hard face and deeply into his eyes. All  
  
she saw was desperation. "A message to the queen?" the woman  
  
repeated "What sort of message would a knight need to have spirited to  
  
his queen?"  
  
He hesitated then replied "It's personal." He laid a small scroll on  
  
a crate that stood between them.  
  
Lady Ophelia looked down at what was obviously a message of  
  
love laying before her. She loosened the sword hidden under her cloak.   
  
"What your asking of me is treason. I protect my lady, the queen, but I  
  
am sworn to the king."  
  
"This is love, I beg of you, it's bigger then either of us."  
  
"Your asking me to betray my king and my oath, I've killed many  
  
for much lessor offenses."  
  
"Your oath is to a mortal." the man whispered "Even if he dies of  
  
old age, it is but a blink of an eye to you and I."  
  
"The same can be said of your love for our queen."   
  
"Love can live forever." he returned. "This love is forever, I  
  
know it."  
  
"If this is so important." she pressed "What do you offer me that  
  
is more valuable then my oath to my king?"  
  
The great knight opened his arms. "I have nothing as valuable as  
  
the oath I ask you to break."  
  
"I'll have YOUR oath." the woman said.  
  
The man smiled she would carry his message to his love.   
  
"Anything."  
  
"Your oath, that you will never again be part of my life. No  
  
matter what, you will not call me out, pursue me or in any way effect my  
  
life, the paths I will follow or the people I know, mortal or otherwise;   
  
until we are the last two."  
  
He knew what she was asking. "I give you my word, that I will  
  
never be a part of your life or purposely effect it in any way. I give you  
  
my oath to follow the words and the intent of what you ask; unless we  
  
are the last two."  
  
Lady Ophelia picked up the scroll with her right hand and  
  
slipped it under her cloak. At the same time she offered her left hand,  
  
palm down to seal the oath. The man was not familiar with this custom  
  
but offered his the same way, covering her hand with his. Before he  
  
knew what she was doing, she brought a dagger out and slammed it  
  
down impaling both hands to the top of the crate. He yelped in pain and  
  
shock, but she didn't even gasp at the pain.  
  
"Now it is sealed." she said. Then wrenched the dagger loose.  
  
The knight wrapped his hand in a scarf that had hung in his belt,  
  
as did Ophelia. "Sir Lancelot," she said as he started to leave. He  
  
turned back and looked at her. "Don't break this oath, I am not as  
  
forgiving as the King would be."  
  
"So I've heard, Lady Ophelia." Lancelot replied then slowly  
  
walked from the small shed.........  
  
"I don't understand you, Lance. I've never seen you run from a  
  
fight." Lynx pushed bringing his mentor out of his memories.  
  
Lance shook his head. "You'll never understand me, my friend.   
  
Take my advise, leave town, avoid these people, I will take care of them  
  
in due time."  
  
"Fuck you then!" Lynx yelled "I'll take care of it, I'm capable of  
  
defending myself."  
  
"I wish you luck then." Lance said and headed for his bike.  
  
to be continued........


	32. Part 32

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
by OldScout

Part 32  
  
Richie found the group an abandoned store front not far from  
  
the bar. Jeremy carried Mandy in and tended her wounds. He knew  
  
she would heal, but figured it would be quicker and cleaner if the flaps  
  
of scalp and skin were in their natural spots.  
  
Richie knew the area, and wasn't covered with blood, so he  
  
went out to get supplies. Mandy woke while he was gone, and Jeremy  
  
helped her clean up as best he could.  
  
"Did you get a hold of Ryan's friend?" Mandy asked as soon as  
  
they settled down to wait for Richie.  
  
Jeremy nodded, "We're to meet him tonight."  
  
The woman drew a sharpening stone across the edges of her  
  
sword. "I have other business to take care of tonight."  
  
Jeremy turned and looked at his companion. "You know where  
  
Lynx is?"  
  
"I know how to find him."  
  
"Great, we'll look for him after we meet with MacLeod, or  
  
tomorrow when you've had time to rest."  
  
Mandy smiled softly at Jeremy. And leaned toward him  
  
"You've done so much, I don't know how I could ever thank you."  
  
"We have to stick together." Jeremy replied looking at her as she  
  
approached him. He never read her intention until it was too late, she  
  
swung around quickly, thrusting her remaining dagger into his chest.  
  
Jeremy grasped at the wound in his chest. He heard Mandy  
  
speaking in his sudden darkness "I'm sorry, my friend, but this is  
  
something I must do myself."  
  
It was early evening at Fat Fred's and Mandy saw the large  
  
biker she'd been talking to in the bar. He sat on a bench behind the  
  
building, tinkering with his motorcycle. Mandy was standing next to  
  
him before he saw her, then he practically had a heart attack when he  
  
recognized her.  
  
"Where the hell did you come from?" he demanded, jumping to  
  
his feet.  
  
"We have some unfinished business." Mandy replied.  
  
His face had gone white. "I saw you get cut up going through  
  
that window, and get shot by that bastard Lynx."  
  
The woman smiled, "It wasn't as bad as it looked."  
  
"I guess not. What do you want?" the man said taking a few  
  
steps from the Mandy.  
  
"You know what I want, I was hoping we could do this a lot  
  
easier this time?"  
  
"Your still going after Lynx, great, those two people he shot  
  
today were friends of mine. You want him, you got him."  
  
"Why don't you go after him then?" Mandy replied, suddenly  
  
suspicious.  
  
"He has a mean, bad-ass friend that nobody messes with." the  
  
biker replied "I figured I'd just bide my time until I could get him  
  
clean."  
  
"So you'll send me after him instead, if I get him or his friend  
  
gets me, you've got one problem taken care of." Mandy summed up the  
  
situation with a smile.  
  
He saw the amusement in her face and smiled too. "That about  
  
covers it."  
  
"As long as we understand each other."  
  
The old garage the biker described was easy to find, and just as  
  
easy to get in. Lynx was sitting in a corner of the garage that had been  
  
set up as a living area. Torn and ratty furniture was strewn about in an  
  
attempt at order. The man was seated at an old picnic table with  
  
several guns spread out in front of him for cleaning.  
  
It wasn't hard to sneak up behind Lynx, though he worked on  
  
his weapons, he was still in shock from earlier that afternoon. Mandy  
  
stood several paces behind him, then reached into her pocket and pulled  
  
out a penny. The coined rolled silently out of her hand and clanked to  
  
the cement floor.  
  
Lynx jumped to his feet at the sound, pulling a gun at the same  
  
time. Mandy stepped forward as Lynx moved and was quickly inside  
  
his reach and smiled up at him. His eyes went wide at the sight of her  
  
so close, then she stabbed him.   
  
Mandy slid her dagger deep into the tall man who had killed her  
  
family and did such awful things to her. She pulled up on the knife and  
  
felt the man's guts spill out of the wound. The look on his face was that  
  
of dumb founded shock, the shock that she had gotten to him so easily.  
  
She looked at him as his life rolled out. "What a stench!" she  
  
said in mock disgust at the gore. "What have you been eating?"  
  
Pain was all he felt, lighting thrusting through his body bringing  
  
pain to the very core of his being. Then light, with subsiding pain. He  
  
woke up very uncomfortable, his arms were stretched over his head,  
  
and his toes barely touched the ground. He hung from a chain in the  
  
ceiling. Then a new sensation pressed though his temple, like a rush of  
  
electricity.  
  
"Welcome back." came a woman's voice.  
  
The woman was in a casual squatting position, leaning back  
  
against a near by wall. She held a large double edge sword out in front  
  
of here, standing it straight up with tip to the floor. It looked like a  
  
giant twin of the dagger she had thrown at him.  
  
"What happened? I thought I was dead." He gasped, still feeling  
  
the pain in his abdomen.  
  
"Look down at yourself." Mandy replied with a grin, indicating  
  
the bloody mess on and around him.  
  
"My god." he whispered.  
  
"You stupid child." Mandy taunted. "Jeremy and I both came  
  
back, you never understood you couldn't kill us."  
  
He looked at her blankly. She continued "Jeremy said your  
  
friend is immortal, but he never told you you were too. Did he? What a  
  
shame."  
  
A glimmer of a light came on. "I'm immortal?" he finally  
  
choked out.  
  
"That's right, after you die for the first time, you never grow  
  
older, never get sick, heal quickly, and never die."  
  
He understood and accepted quickly, suddenly all of the pieces  
  
fit together and his situation didn't look so bleak. He laughed. "Then  
  
you can't kill me. So why don't you just cut me down and we'll go on  
  
our separate ways, pretend this never happened."  
  
The woman laughed back at him. "You don't understand, no  
  
matter what I do to you, you'll survive. Every wound will hurt just as  
  
much as before, only you'll always come back for more.  
  
"By the way." She added "You can die, if I cut your head off."   
  
The horror of the situation suddenly set in as he watched her  
  
spin the sword in front of her. "What do you plan to do to me." he  
  
stammered. "You can't do this, I have rights."  
  
Mandy laughed. "What do I plan to do? I'm not sure yet, but I  
  
did get a pizza." she motioned toward the kitchen area. A partially  
  
eaten pizza lay on the table he'd been working at earlier. "I do know  
  
one thing." she added "You'll die screaming, just like your girl friend  
  
did."  
  
to be continued............ 


	33. Part 33

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout  
  
Part 33  
  
The meeting place was in an old industrial part of town. Vacant  
  
and nearly vacant factories and warehouses blighted the dismal  
  
landscape. An old warehouse stood alone on a large over-grown  
  
parking lot. A fence that ringed the lot had fallen down in many places.   
  
The walls were topped with industrial style windows that had all been  
  
broken years earlier. Sections of the corrugated metal walls had been  
  
knocked in or pealed loose, and the building's doors all hung from their  
  
tracks and hinges.  
  
The young immortals parked their bikes outside of the building  
  
and wandered in. Richie saw Jeremy put something down the back of  
  
his coat, and assumed it was a sword. Richie grabbed his own broad  
  
sword, out of habit, and because Mac had sounded so concerned on the  
  
phone.   
  
"Better safe then sorry." he thought.  
  
The late evening sun shown dimly through the shattered  
  
windows, revealing piles of rubbish and construction debris cluttering  
  
the floor of the warehouse. People must have been dumping their junk  
  
here for years.  
  
"I don't feel anybody." Richie said quietly. "I don't like it."  
  
"Neither do I." Jeremy responded and pulled the .357 clear of  
  
his belt. He held the weapon out in front of him, keeping it pointed to  
  
the floor.  
  
"What's that for?" Richie asked seeing the pistol.  
  
"Because we don't feel anybody, means there may be a need for  
  
it."  
  
Richie shrugged, he knew Jeremy didn't play the game, but was  
  
still surprised to see him depend on the magnum so much. "Mac said  
  
don't be early." he whispered, "I figured that he meant he would be."  
  
Jeremy motioned Richie to silence, his trained senses told him  
  
someone was approaching on foot. "Someone is coming toward the  
  
back of the building." he whispered to Richie. He pointed to a pile  
  
debris. "Take cover, till we find out what's going on." They crouched  
  
behind a pile of broken cement slabs that hand been dumped in a far  
  
corner of the building.  
  
They both saw the silhouette at the same time. To Richie is was  
  
unmistakable, the tall man with long hair and a trench coat was framed  
  
in one of the holes in the wall. They all felt each other at the same time.   
  
In a smooth, fluid motion the man pulled a curved sword from under  
  
his jacket and held if off to his side.  
  
"Richie?" the man said softly.  
  
"Yea, Mac." Richie replied just as softly.  
  
"Is Keller with you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good, you guys spread out and stay hidden, we have  
  
company."  
  
Duncan ducked inside, and staked out a place toward the  
  
middle of the building. The Highlander motioned to the two younger  
  
men to spread out, Jeremy crossed to new cover without hesitation, but  
  
Richie hesitated not really knowing what was going on.  
  
They felt the presence of a fourth immortal. Richie looked at  
  
Jeremy and mouthed "Mandy?".  
  
Jeremy shook his head clearly, it wasn't her.  
  
A new figured appeared in the hole Duncan had used. In the  
  
fading light, they could tell he was well dressed, wearing a long trench  
  
coat, a very similar look to MacLeod.  
  
"Looks like I've been expected." he said loudly. The man  
  
opened his coat and removed an expensive straight sword with a thin  
  
double edged blade.   
  
"MacLeod," he continued "I know your not the type to ambush  
  
anyone, especially another immortal. It just isn't part of the game."  
  
Duncan stepped out from behind the pillar he'd been using.   
  
"Your quite right." he said, "But it's always prudent to asses the  
  
situation before committing to it."  
  
Gattlin nodded to Duncan, "As you can see, and feel, I am quite  
  
alone. Now, if I can chat with Lieutenant Keller, I would appreciate it."  
  
Jeremy had worked his way through the debris and was very  
  
close to Gattlin when he stepped out. "I'm Keller." he said. "What do  
  
you want with me?" Jeremy had his .357 pointed at Gattlin.  
  
"Please, Lieutenant, that won't be necessary, I'm not here to hurt  
  
you."  
  
"Someone like you doesn't hunt men not to hurt them." Jeremy  
  
responded and moved closer to Gattlin. "Do I know you? You look  
  
familiar."  
  
"We've never met, Lieutenant, but I feel that I know you."  
  
Gattlin said. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Peter Gattlin,  
  
and I want to offer you a job."  
  
Jeremy smiled. "A job? What kind of job, and how do you  
  
know me."  
  
"It's my job to know about you, I work for a branch of the CIA,  
  
and we occasionally recruit men like you."  
  
The other's eyes went wide. "The government knows about  
  
immortals?" Jeremy asked, dumbfounded.  
  
"Not really," Gattlin replied "just a select few who work with  
  
us."  
  
"Why me?"  
  
"We look for new immortals who don't really want to live for  
  
the game. Mostly from the military. It gives you a chance to continue  
  
to serve your country in a very special way."  
  
A look of disgust crossed Jeremy's face. "I am not interested.   
  
Government bureaucrats were trying to blame me for that helicopter  
  
crash just because I survived. They can all just go rot in hell."  
  
A tone of sympathy came to Gattlin's voice. "The people I work  
  
for are not like that, we know there's nothing you could do about  
  
running out of fuel. You had nothing to do with planning the mission."  
  
Jeremy raised his gun. "How did you know we ran out of fuel?   
  
I never told anybody that."  
  
"Of course you did, during the hearings."  
  
Jeremy looked at MacLeod and Ryan. "I never told anybody we  
  
ran of fuel, just that we crashed from a technical malfunction. Eight  
  
good men died." His face went vacant for a moment as he remembered  
  
the incidents of the mission. He turned back toward Agent Gattlin. "I  
  
have seen you before."  
  
Gattlin shifted uneasily. "That's not possible."  
  
The .357 leveled more directly at Gattlin's head. "We were  
  
testing our night vision equipment the night before the mission. You  
  
were one of the crew working on the helicopter. I must have been too  
  
far away to sense you."  
  
The man smiled. "Your far too important to waste on missions  
  
like that." Gattlin said. "I had to free you up to join us."  
  
A flash of red anger crossed Jeremy's face. "You son of a bitch,  
  
those were good men, and my friends. We were making a difference."   
  
He cocked his gun.  
  
"Stop!" MacLeod yelled. "That is not how we settle things!"  
  
"It's how I settle things." Jeremy hissed, still starring at Gattlin.  
  
"If you insist on playing it that way, I won't help you." Duncan  
  
replied. "I won't help a cheater."  
  
"I don't play the game, and I don't have a sword." Jeremy  
  
replied, "This is my weapon."  
  
"If you want my help getting out the country, you'll fight him as  
  
tradition demands." MacLeod said. He then nodded to Richie, who  
  
threw his broad sword to Jeremy's feet.  
  
"He's packing too." Jeremy said. "As soon as I put my gun  
  
down, a man like him would shoot all three of us and take our heads."  
  
Peter Gattlin removed his trench coat and his suit jacket,  
  
revealing a semi-automatic strapped under his arm. He took the pistol  
  
and made a show of removing the clip and ejecting a bullet from the  
  
chamber. "Lets go, Lieutenant, or are you afraid to fight me man to  
  
man?"  
  
Jeremy dropped the chamber of his revolver open and let the six  
  
shells fall to the ground. Then he removed his field jacket revealing the  
  
shot gun strapped to his back. He pumped three of the its four shells  
  
out, then laid both weapons on the ground. He picked up the sword and  
  
held it out in front of him with one hand.  
  
"Look at him, Mac." Richie whispered. "He has no idea how to  
  
use a sword. This is a death sentence."  
  
"He's had plenty of time to learn." Duncan replied "Now it's  
  
time to start playing the game."  
  
to be continued.............


	34. Part 34

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**  
  
Part 34  
  
It wasn't difficult to follow Gattlin, he was arrogant and was  
  
making mistakes. Anita just set her sights on the dinosaur white van  
  
he was driving and was able to following him from blocks away.   
  
Gattlin must have been following MacLeod with a tracking beacon, he  
  
spent too much time driving slowly and making sudden turns.  
  
Anita found the van on the edge of an old industrial park. A  
  
quarter mile down the road was MacLeod's T-Bird. She left her car in  
  
an abandoned driveway not far from the van, then followed Gattlin's  
  
trail through over-grown empty lots.  
  
Just a few minutes behind Gattlin, Anita approached the old  
  
warehouse in time to see Lieutenant Keller pick up a sword and face  
  
Gattlin. MacLeod and someone she didn't recognize stood to the side.   
  
MacLeod held a Japanese katana down to his side.  
  
It was like watching a forbidden ritual in an ancient culture,  
  
Anita knew she should stop this thing, but her curiosity made her hold  
  
her ground. These "Immortals" were about to participate in ritual  
  
combat, and she needed to see it through.  
  
-------------  
  
Mandy approached the animal to start the first lesson when she  
  
felt the presence of another immortal. Lynx felt it too and looked  
  
around.  
  
"That's one of us, isn't it?" He smiled "Lance has come back,  
  
you bitch, you won't be able to surprise him like you did me."  
  
The door opened, revealing the silhouette of a tall, thin man in a  
  
trench coat. He stepped forward into the dim light. "Hello Ophelia." he  
  
said.  
  
The woman took an on-guard position and approached the new  
  
comer. "I don't recognize you, but you have no interest here. Leave  
  
now or I'll deal with you next."  
  
Lynx started thrashing in his chains. "Help me!" he cried "She's  
  
crazy, you can't imagine what she's done to me already."  
  
Adam stepped forward. "Actually, I know all too well what she  
  
is capable of." he said to Lynx.   
  
Mandy's eyes opened in recognition. "You! What are you  
  
doing here?" she was barely able to choke the words out in shock.  
  
Adam casually circled around Mandy, trying to get a feel for the  
  
room. "How I trained you, was for a different place and a different  
  
time."  
  
A smile crossed Mandy's face. "But it's what's kept me alive this  
  
long."  
  
"Come, on." Lynx screamed "Cut me the hell down."  
  
With a casual flick of her sword, Mandy slit Lynx's throat. His  
  
screams were replaced with gurgling noises. "That'll quiet you down  
  
for a while."   
  
Adam stepped closer.  
  
--------------  
  
The two men circled, each sizing up the other's capabilities.   
  
Keller held his sword in one hand to his side, like it was just a big  
  
knife. Gattlin, on the other hand, had taken a classic stance, and shifted  
  
his position in well practiced, fluid moves. Gattlin obviously had  
  
Keller out-classed in swordsmanship, but there was something about  
  
Jeremy's causal attitude that made him hesitate.  
  
"Come on, Lieutenant." Peter goaded. "Don't you want a piece  
  
of me?"  
  
"I'm just waiting for you to me show how to use this thing."  
  
Jeremy replied, gesturing toward the sword he held.  
  
"Ok, if that's the way you want to play it." Gattlin suddenly  
  
changed position and thrust out to where Jeremy had been before he  
  
started his attack.  
  
Muscles tightening, eyes narrowing, and other signs of sudden  
  
concentration told Jeremy that Gattlin was about to attack. He let him  
  
change his position, and commit his attack then Jeremy ducked and  
  
rolled to the side, coming up next to Gattlin. As Jeremy regained his  
  
feet, he kicked Peter in the back of his left knee, knocking him to the  
  
ground. The men's swords clashed for the first time as Jeremy took a  
  
swing at Gattlin.  
  
Years of practice and experience were all that gave Peter the  
  
speed he needed to avoid Jeremy's attack. Keller wasn't a swordsman,  
  
but he was a trained killer, specializing in covert operations. A man  
  
who survived by knowing how to kill swiftly and quietly. The only  
  
chance Gattlin had, was to keep Keller in a duel.  
  
Jeremy had other plans.  
  
-------------------------  
  
Mandy stepped away from the newcomer. "What are you doing  
  
here, How did you find me?"  
  
Adam pointed at the body dangling from the ceiling. "This isn't  
  
how we play the game, Ophelia."  
  
"This isn't our game I'm playing." Mandy replied, "It's his, he  
  
started it just for his own sport. Now he's paying the price."  
  
"This isn't the way, with your reputation, only fools would call  
  
you out. You don't need to do this."  
  
"Listen to yourself." Mandy laughed, "Your the one who told the  
  
tales of how you stayed alive by your reputation. But it wasn't an empty  
  
reputation, was it? You earned it, I could tell by the fire in your eyes as  
  
you told me your stories."  
  
"That was a long time ago, you were living with barbarians, you  
  
needed a way to survive." Adam said. "Ruthlessness worked to keep a  
  
woman alive in the game. Your not inexperienced anymore, you don't  
  
need the reputation to keep you alive."  
  
"Your wrong, I need it now, more then ever." With that, Mandy  
  
drew one of her daggers and threw it at Adam.  
  
------------------------------  
  
The fight between Gattlin and Keller quickly deteriorated from a  
  
duel to a brawl with swords. Keller would hit kick and even scratch at  
  
every chance he got. Jeremy used his sword only to block Gattlin's  
  
attacks and to make an occasional thrust when Gattlin lowered his  
  
guard.  
  
With bruises rising on his face, cuts opened on his hands and  
  
arms, and exhaustion setting in, Petter Gattlin knew he had to get the  
  
advantage soon. Keller was too well trained, the man knew how to stay  
  
alive in fight and would fight any way he could to survive.  
  
The fight changed, Gattlin altered his attack, putting more  
  
power and speed into is style. He stopped conserving energy to survive  
  
a drawn out duel, and pressed hard to break through Jeremy's  
  
inexperienced defenses. It worked, Keller's sword was knocked from  
  
his hands and Gattlin's sword soon slid through the left side of Keller's  
  
abdomen.  
  
-----------------------------  
  
Adam had predicted Ophelia's next move and stepped away  
  
from the dagger just in time for it to only hit his shoulder. He could feel  
  
his body begin to heal itself immediately. The wound closed up as he  
  
pulled the dagger from his shoulder. He dropped the knife to the  
  
ground at his feet.  
  
"You forget, I thought you that trick." He said with an ironic  
  
smile. "End this now, Little Sister, this is not how your father would  
  
have wanted his name remembered."  
  
"What do you know of my father?" Mandy asked, adjusting her  
  
stance.  
  
"Only what you told me. The man you told me about was a man  
  
of honor and pride, there is no honor in this." Adam then motioned  
  
toward Ophelia's sword. "You had his sword buried for a long time,  
  
the times have changed since you last did battle with it."  
  
"Times haven't changed that much, men still do horrible things  
  
to each other, people still carry guns on the street and can't trust the  
  
stranger next to them."  
  
Adam lowered his sword. "If you must kill this man, then do it.   
  
But to do to him what you would, is not for a civilized society. Aren't  
  
you ready to live in, and live up to, what this society demands of us?"  
  
The woman paced the room and ended up at the pizza. She  
  
lifted a piece of the still warm pie. "I'll think about it."  
  
Adam met her at the table and took a piece for himself. The two  
  
held up their food as if in a toast. "Let this hatred end here." he said in  
  
a disturbingly quiet voice. Movement and choking sounds drew  
  
Mandy's attention back to her victim. The strong quickening faded, and  
  
her old teacher was gone.  
  
------------------------------  
  
Anita was about to interfere when Gattlin stabbed Lieutenant  
  
Keller. Something in her held her back as she watched the possibly  
  
fatal strike. Keller's response was not what she expected. He  
  
screamed, not only in pain, but in attack. He grabbed Gattlin's sword  
  
hand and pulled him forward, forcing the sword all the way through his  
  
own body.  
  
At the same time he pulled Gattlin forward, Keller struck  
  
straight out with his other hand. The heal of his hand hit Peter Gattlin  
  
across the bridge of his nose, driving the cartilage and bone behind it in  
  
to his brain, killing him instantly. Jeremy released the body, letting it  
  
fall onto a pile of debris. Anita recognized the move, Keller meant to  
  
kill Gattlin but it could cost him his own life.  
  
The others looked on with a strange look of approval. But they  
  
didn't move toward the combatants, instead, they backed away. Keller  
  
grabbed the sword and slowly pulled it from his gut, cutting his own  
  
hands in the process. When he got it clear, he limped to the body.  
  
Suddenly Anita knew what he was about to do and couldn't let  
  
this go any further. She stepped into the open with her weapon drawn  
  
and said "Federal Agent, your all under arrest."  
  
Jeremy looked at MacLeod then at Ropper. He leaned on the  
  
Gattlin's sword, his own blood dripping off the blade. Then he lifted  
  
the weapon and said, as if in explanation, "He's not the one." Jeremy  
  
swung and Anita fired.  
  
To be continued.............  
  



	35. Part 35

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY**

**"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout  
  
Part 35  
  
The room spun around him and he could still feel the presence  
  
of the woman near him. Lynx rolled his head and tried to clear the  
  
sour, salty taste of blood from his throat. "Oh, god, you bitch, do you  
  
know how that feels?!" He hissed as he gagged the blood and fluids  
  
from his lungs and stomach.  
  
The tip of Mandy's sword pierced the bottom of Lynx's chin as  
  
she pushed his head up with it. "Of course I do, you animal, remember  
  
what you did to me in my own home? And we haven't even begun to  
  
recall the worst of it."  
  
"Oh, dear God." Lynx finally whispered. "What had I become?"   
  
he then watched the woman go to where she had his chains secured to a  
  
post. She slipped a hook loose, releasing the chain, dropping him to the  
  
floor.  
  
Lynx knelt on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath.   
  
"Your letting me go?" he whispered.  
  
"Adam was right, it is time to let go of my old ways. Your not  
  
worth my efforts."  
  
The big man fell forward, resting his aching head to the cold  
  
cement. "Oh, thank you, thank you, I promise you'll never see me  
  
again."  
  
"Your also not worth my forgiveness." Mandy's voice sent a  
  
chill up Lynx's spine. He turned toward her in time to see a half eaten  
  
slice of pizza hit the floor in a splatter of red. It was the last thing he  
  
ever saw.  
  
-------------------------  
  
Anita's bullet ripped through Jeremy, but she was too close, it  
  
cut through him but didn't knock him down. His swing was on target  
  
and he took Gattlin's head as he fell next to him.  
  
Anita tried covering all three men. "Shit!" she yelled, "why'd  
  
you have to do that?" She swung her gun back and forth between the  
  
men. "Drop your weapons."  
  
Duncan approached her quickly, and Richie headed to retrieve  
  
his sword. "Come on." Duncan said urgently "We have to get you out  
  
of here."  
  
"Stay back." Anita said leveling her gun on MacLeod. "You've  
  
got a lot of explaining ..." Something caught her eye in mid sentence.  
  
A strange fog had formed around Gattlin's body, and seemed to  
  
be lit from underneath. "What the hell is that?" she whispered and  
  
started to lower her weapon as she turned her attention.  
  
Duncan caught agent Ropper by the shoulders as all hell broke  
  
loose in the warehouse. Lightening ripped through the headless body  
  
and Lieutenant Keller. Fire erupted everywhere and pieces of the  
  
building began dropping around them as the lightening leaped fourth.  
  
Duncan rushed Anita out the hole she had come in, as they left,  
  
the interior came alive with destruction. In the middle of it all knelt  
  
Lieutenant Keller screaming in pain as the energy ripped through him.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------  
  
The old freight elevator to MacLeod's building deposited Agent  
  
Ropper into the man's apartment. He had tried to explain what had  
  
happened last night, but she knew she was getting mostly half truths  
  
and evasions. He promised more details today, but she was already  
  
starting to believe the truth. The "Cult of Immortals" Gattlin had told  
  
her about, wasn't a cult. It explained everything, but she wasn't sure if  
  
she was ready to live with the answers.  
  
As expected, the apartment wasn't empty. Duncan and the one  
  
he had introduced as Richie met her as she entered. There was a third,  
  
seated in a wooden chair in the far corner of the loft style apartment, it  
  
was Lieutenant Keller. He didn't rise to great her, merely set motionless  
  
and watched her approach the other two.  
  
"I'm glad to see your alone, Agent Ropper." MacLeod said as he  
  
approached. "We were afraid you may return with a team from the  
  
Agency."  
  
A smile crossed Ropper's face. "Mr. MacLeod, If you even  
  
thought that was a slight possibility, I would have found an empty  
  
apartment here this morning."  
  
Duncan returned her smile with sly grin of his own. "Then what  
  
now?"  
  
"The agency want's an accounting." Anita crossed the room and  
  
looked out a window at the rundown neighborhood. "My report will  
  
say that the two men killed each other in sword fight. When I shot at  
  
Keller, my shot must have ignited industrial waste that was illegally  
  
dumped in the building. The resulting fire must have totally consumed  
  
Keller's body."  
  
Anita then looked at Keller, still sitting in his corner. "You  
  
know, that if he's ever identified, it'll be my career."  
  
"Don't worry," Duncan reassured her "Mr. Keller will be out of  
  
the country by the end of the week."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Richie broke in. "You owe us  
  
nothing. This is the truth to a mystery you've been investigating for a  
  
long time."  
  
"I've learned a lot of things." Anita replied. "The most  
  
disturbing of which is that people with ancient agendas may be taking  
  
positions of power in our government. And my experience tells me that  
  
these people my not care about the consequences of their actions on  
  
those of us with shorter life spans."  
  
"Not all of us disregard the value of mortal lives." MacLeod  
  
interjected.  
  
"You spend your long lives with but one purpose, kill everybody  
  
else who is like you." Anita replied "Don't tell me that somewhere  
  
along the line life doesn't become cheap to you."  
  
Duncan nodded. "Your right, it does become cheap. But we  
  
can also re-learn its value."   
  
"I really hope so." Anita returned, then headed for the elevator.   
  
She had another appointment to keep, Joe Dawson had offered to help  
  
her watch for other immortals in her world inside the DC beltway.  
  
After Agent Ropper was gone, Duncan turned back to his house  
  
guest, and handed him a packet that was laying on the kitchen counter.   
  
"Your ship weighs anchor day after tomorrow."  
  
Jeremy stood and accepted the packet from MacLeod. In it was  
  
a new passport and other ID, a union card that allowed him to work on  
  
the ship he wanted, and other assorted papers. He studied the  
  
particulars of the ship. It was an oil tanker, headed for the Persian  
  
Gulf, perfect.  
  
"I don't know how to thank you." Jeremy said sincerely.   
  
"It's a debt to an old friend." MacLeod replied. "I hope you  
  
prove worth his support."  
  
Slipping the envelope in side his jacket. Jeremy replied, "I hope  
  
so too."   
  
Riche stood next to MacLeod and the two men watched their  
  
visitor show himself out.   
  
"Why do you think he wants to go to the Persian Gulf?" Riche  
  
wondered aloud.  
  
"I have no idea." Duncan return.  
  
to be continued............


	36. Part 36 Final Chapter

**THE ONLY EASY DAY IS YESTERDAY  
  
"The Journey of Jeremy Keller"**

by OldScout  
  
Part 36  
  
The young woman pulled up in front of the abandoned farm.   
  
Tall unkempt grass swayed in the slight breeze. She breathed deeply  
  
and looked out across the empty fields. "It really does look blue." She  
  
thought to herself. A smile crossed her face, she remembered thinking  
  
the same thing the first time she saw this farm, so long ago.  
  
Another vehicle pulled up behind her. The passenger side doors  
  
to the Jeep Grand Cherokee swung open releasing three small children.   
  
A good looking young man got out of the driver's seat, he looked no  
  
older then his mid twenties.  
  
"Miss Ericson?" he asked as he approached, and offered his  
  
hand. Only part of his attention was on her as he kept most of it on the  
  
three little girls he had released from his truck.  
  
"Ophelia." the woman returned. "But my friends call me Lila."  
  
The man grinned. "I'm Jack Walker from the real estate agency.  
  
You know, it's not often we sell a place sight unseen."  
  
Ophelia had strolled up the over grown driveway. "It wasn't  
  
sight unseen." she said. Not admitting she had purchased the place from  
  
her own corporation. "I've driven by here many times, and finally got  
  
around to making the phone call."  
  
Jack laughed. "Well ma'am, I'm sure glad you did. The girls  
  
and I can make good use of the commission, they're growing so fast  
  
these days."  
  
"You have a beautiful family, Mr. Wagner." Ophelia said  
  
sincerely. She noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding band, but appeared  
  
to have it on a chain around his neck. "What's their mother doing on this  
  
beautiful morning?"  
  
A glaze seemed to wash over the Realtor's face. "My wife was  
  
killed in an auto accident about a year ago. Ever since then, it's just  
  
been me and the girls."  
  
"I'm sorry, Jack, I had no idea." Ophelia smiled inwardly. She  
  
took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the main house. "This is  
  
going make such a beautiful horse farm." she said, trying to change the  
  
subject. "I can't wait to get it fixed up."  
  
"I've always wondered what it would look like put back  
  
together." Jack volunteered.  
  
Ophelia looked sweetly at the young man. "Perhaps you would  
  
bring the girls over for dinner sometime." she suggested. "After I have  
  
the house cleaned up a bit."  
  
"I think they'd enjoy that." Jack responded. Then he lead Ophelia  
  
around the property showing her features of the place she had long  
  
forgotten. Ophelia grasped his arm and leaned closer to him then she  
  
needed to.  
  
------------------  
  
Waves of heat rose from the vast empty parking lot. The  
  
relentless Middle Eastern sun bore down from its high noon position.   
  
Jeremy sat on a curb at the far edge of the vast see of black top and  
  
stared at the Grand Mosque. To his right, beyond the bluff that gave the  
  
mosque its view, the waters of the Persian Gulf sat smooth as glass  
  
stretching to the horizon.  
  
It had been just a few years since Jeremy had last been here, but  
  
in some ways it felt like a life time. Then, there was a constant haze in  
  
the air from the fires in Kuwait. Now it was clear and peaceful.  
  
A lone figure emerged from the great sand stone colored  
  
building. The sun shining off the gold and glass from the domes made it  
  
difficult to look directly at the building. Shading his eyes from the glare,  
  
Keller watched the white-robed figure.  
  
Jeremy stood as the man approached, he adjusted his white head  
  
dress away from his face and smiled at Jeremy. "You are American?" he  
  
both asked and stated in perfect English.  
  
"Jeremy Keller." Jeremy said and held out his hand.  
  
"I am Salom Zibram" the man replied and shook hands with the  
  
light grip that was standard for an Arab. "What brings you to visit the  
  
Grand Mosque of Bahrain?"  
  
A smile crossed Jeremy's face. "I thought I recognized you." he  
  
said, "You led tours of your beautiful mosque for us after the war."  
  
The man's face lit up. "Yes, my friend. You were a soldier  
  
during the war? You have returned to our humble country, perhaps on  
  
vacation?" He saw something in Jeremy's eyes. "No, it is more then  
  
that."  
  
Jeremy looked away back out to the Gulf.  
  
"Come my friend, lets talk." Salom urged. "Allah has brought  
  
you to this place for a reason, perhaps I can help you find your path."  
  
"My path has lead full circle." Jeremy said. "I've come in search  
  
of peace to a place that I knew in a time I of war."  
  
"That is good, my friend, Allah is truly a god of peace. This a  
  
good place to start your journey."  
  
A familiar tingle stirred the hairs at the back of Jeremy's neck.   
  
He looked out to the narrow road that lead up to the Mosque's immense  
  
parking lot. Two white cars approached, the lead was a Chevy Caprice,  
  
the second was a stretched Mercedes Benz. Jeremy had contacted no  
  
one since arriving in Bahrain the day before, but knew these cars would  
  
come for him.  
  
"Actually, my journey leads me just a bit further west."  
  
The man smiled. "You head for the Holy Kingdom? It is a holy  
  
land, but there is much unrest there."  
  
Jeremy headed for the cars as they pulled up at a distance. "Yes,  
  
but it is the only place I can find the kind of peace I'm looking for."  
  
A familiar face greeted Jeremy as he reached the cars. Abual  
  
Aziz shook Jeremy's hand and said "Welcome back my son." The old  
  
immortal looked no older then Jeremy. "Your journey has been long, but  
  
I am glad you have chosen to visit with me for awhile."  
  
"It's good to see you again..." Jeremy started then realized there  
  
was a third immortal present. He leaned down and looked into Aziz's  
  
car. A woman sat in back wearing the traditional Saudi abya, a long  
  
back robe that covered her from head to toe.  
  
Aziz Motioned for Jeremy to get into the car. As Jeremy sat  
  
down Aziz said "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Sabrina."  
  
The woman lifted her vail revealing a beautiful face with light  
  
skin topped with long, brown hair. "Hello, missure, Keller." she said  
  
with a detectable French accent. "My father has told me so much about  
  
you."  
  
The Arab smiled at the sight of the beautiful woman. "Sabrina's  
  
parents were killed by raiders when she was very young."  
  
"It's a pleasure, Miss Aziz." Jeremy said and bowed slightly  
  
toward the woman.  
  
Aziz clapped his hands and said "We have so much to do, there  
  
is so much for you to help me with...."  
  
The two cars pulled away from the mosque, and headed back to  
  
the causeway that connected the tiny island country of Bahrain, with the  
  
desert kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Jeremy Keller finally found what he  
  
was looking for, he was out of the game.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------  
  
-------------------------------------------------------


End file.
